LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap o^.i Copyright No.. 
Shelf..G.^!J 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



'i'^^,^ 



BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS 



By-gone Tourist Days 
Letters of Travel 



By LAURA G. COLLINS 

Author of ** Immortelles and Asphodels" 
ILLUSTRATED 



** I consider letters the most vital part of literature ' 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning 



CINCINNATI 

THE ROBERT CLARKE COMPANY 

J900 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 

Library Of GcnGTagej 
Office of tt^ ) 



Regis-. 



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THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 



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Copyright, J899, 
By The Robert Clarke Company. 







SECOND COPV. 






INSCRIPTION* 



Respectfully inscribed to the dear friends 

to whom the letters were written, 

and by them preserved* 



CONTENTS. 



lyONDON Letter — April 7, 1882, . . . i 

Trip on the Atlantic — The Steamer Adriatic — Storm on 
the Ocean — Chester — English Cathedrals — ^To Liver- 
pool — Chatsworth — Stratford — The 318th Anniversary 
of Shakespeare — Oxford — Magdalen College — "Addi- 
son's Walk" — New College — Sir Joshua Rejrnolds- 
Window — At Warwick — Bodlean Library — Ashmolean;;/ 
Museimi — SpofiFord Brooks and Canon Liddon. 

London Letter — June 11, 1882, . . .16' 

Seeing London — Advantage of being in a great city — 
The boarding-house, just for Americans — Windsor 
Palace — Gray's grave — Moncure Conway — Canon Par- 
rar — Bostonians — ^American Cousins — From London on. 
the way to Scotland. 

From London to Edinburgh — ^July 4, 1882, 22 

Four hours at York — The Nuns of St. Leonard's Hos- 
pital—St. Mary's Abbey— "The Five Sisters "—New- 
castle-on-Tyne— Durham— The Cathedral— St. Cuthbert 
— The Tomb of Bede — The Legend of Bede — Wandering 
minstrels — Scenery on the route — The sunset — A Scotch 
lady — List of tourists. 

ScoTivAND Letter — ^July 21, 1882, . . 32 

Edinburgh — Holyrood Palace — Castle with relics of Mary 
Queen of Scots — Alexander Swift says — Of traveling — 
Dumf ermline — The Abbey of Robert Bruce — Newbattle 
Abbey. 

Cvii) 



viii CONTENTS. 

Hejidelberg IvE;ttkr — August 1 6, 1882, . . 38 

In Heidelberg — The Neckar — The places I have been — 
Sketches over the line of travel — ^The scenes visited 
from England to Heidelberg. 

Hb;ide;i,be;rg I,e;tte;r — September 3, 1882, . 41 

Heidelberg; this is home — From Nuremberg — ^The en- 
chantment and charms of the old city — ^The streets, 
buildings, bridges, churches, museums and galleries- 
Masterpieces of Durer, Kraft, Stoss and Vischer — ^The 
works of numerous artists — ^The lime tree — The lamp 
that has been lighted since 1326 — The crown princess — 
The Exposition — Going back some day — ^A day of rest — 
Cape Colony English ladies — My traveling companion. 

Badkn-Badkn — September 19, 1882, , . .44 
Heidelberg on the Neckar — The castle, the Jettenbiihl — 
"Das Grosse Pass" — Mapping out Switzerland — The 
floods— In the Gardens— The Black Forest- The Oos— 
The trees on the banks — ^To Strassburg. 

NtTREjMBERG — September 27, 1883, . , .47 
From Heidelberg to Nuremberg — Nuremberg the objec- 
tive point — Ancestors back to 1570 — Up the Neckar — 
The scenery — Two historic points — Hotels full — Grand 
Exposition — Superb attractions— Old lime tree — Durer's 
monument — The princess and family — A wedding — 
Traveling alone — German lady — At Baden — Friedrichs- 
bad — The days at Strassburg. 

Munich IvKTTEr — September 24, 1882, . . 60 

Old and New Schloss — Trinkhalle and its waters — ^The 
great Friedrichsbad — Strassburg Cathedral — The won- 
derful clock — St. Thomas Church, with monument to 
Marshal Saxe — ^The Strassburg specialty, pates-de-fois- 
gras — The attractive city, Constance — Monastery where 



CONTENTS. ix 

Huss was imprisoned — The place where Jerome suffered 
sentence — From Constance to Lindau — The beauty of 
country and scenery — ^The Alps again — ^Words not equal 
to doing justice — Innumerable places of attraction — 
Miinchen, the capital of little Bavaria. 

MuNCHKN I^:eTTKR — October ii, 1882, . . 64 
Visit to royal palace — ^A woman's voice in American Kn- 
glish — Walks and drives around Munchen — Looking in 
the shop windows — Picking up pictures — Call at the 
book-store — "The Ivast Judgment," largest oil painting 
in the world — Other pictures and sketches — Vesper 
service — Munich a large city — Neighbors — A Prussian 
officer. 

Munich I^dtter — November 18, 1882, . . 77 
Letters, letters, letters — An evening with friends — My 
husband and early childhood — Happy days — Dear hills, 
beautiful hills, sacred hills — Youthful days — ^The house 
where I was bom — "The Point" — That "exuberant 
set" — Another Mrs. C. — Bavarian officer — ^Anticipation 
of seeing the Alps — A concert — Booth — Letters. 

MiJNCHE^N IfEl^TKR — November 20, 1882, . . 87 
A homesick heart — ^The leaf from a tree — Views about the 
old homestead — ^The royal family at church — Royal 
dames — One of the princesses, a beautiful woman — ^The 
king — The music — ^The church — My religion. 

Munich Lettkr — December 12, 1882, . . 92 
Repetition — Letter of the ' ' altogethery type ' ' — My style — 
Love, late in life — Indian summer — ' ' That vale of Aber- 
deen" — Beautiful old ladies — ^That singular death-bed 
speech — ^The divine musician — French books — Dutch 
reading — The epic, Nibelungenlied — ^The king's palace. 



X CONTENTS. 

Munich Lktt:sr — December 22, 1882, . . loa 
My counterfeit presentment — The crayon portrait — "Paint 
me as I am ' ' — About my pictures — The home of my 
childood — "The Place of Roses " — Les Petites Miseres 
de la vie Conjugale — Christmas coming — ^What John 
did — Christmas, Christmas. 

Munich IvB^TTER — January 2, 1883, '. . . 105 
Preparations for Christmas — Bavaria and its kings — ^The 
public buildings — Music — The house of Wittelsbach 
dates from mo — ^The Maximilians — ^The king on his 
death-bed — ^The present king, I,udwig II — His charac- 
ter — His royal palaces — ^The Gallery of Ancestors — ^The 
king a poet — His refined taste — The king's spotless 
reputation — Of the kings. 

MiJNCHSN lyKTTBR — January 15, 1883, . .117 
Christmas and New Years — The scathingest tongue — 
Christmas tree — The Nibelungenlied in German — 
Church services — German New Year's Eve — Our frau's 
banquet. 

Munich IvKTTER — October 4, 1886, . . . 12& 
Of writing letters — Ingenious sophism — ^The little girl 
that prayed — ^The readable letter with a secret — His 

age — Miss B 's letter — ^A grand gala day — Sunday 

the open day — The king — Royal family — ^Royal person- 
ages — Officers of state — A four o'clock tea. 

t^ARis I/E^'TTER — February 4, 1883, . . . 134. 
At last in Paradise — From Munich to Paris — The journey 
a dream — One's own vernacular — View from my private 
balcony — In sight of the Mackey's palace — Grace 
Greenwood in Paris — What an enchantment to know 
places by sight — ^The street scenes — Vast concourse of 
seething humanity — The weather — The flowers. 



CONTENTS, XI 

Paris Lettkr — February 8, 1883, . . .137 

To begin — Figures — Not writing for fame or filthy lucre — 
" Two in one existence " — From Munich to Paris alone 
— ^The experience of cold — ^The German cars comfort- 
able — Fallen in love — Paris, I^ondon and Mimich Com- 
pared — Manufactory of the Gobelins — ^Pompeian palace 
— Viewing art — Language — Night — Solitude — ^To Italy 
from Paris. 

Paris I^e;tter — September i, 1883, . . . 144 
In Paris again after six months — Good intentions — Femi- 
nine interruption — ^A flash of inspiration — ^The lion of 
sandstone carved in a grotto — ^Trip to the glaciers — First 
mule ride — Return from the sublime spectacle — ^The de- 
scent more difficult than the ascent — English ladies — 
From Interlaken to Bern — Lake Leman — ^The Garden 
in which Gibbon wrote the conclusion of his great 
work — Chillon — Passage to Chamony — All the way to 
Geneva — ^That book — The Pension — The Madame. 

Paris I^etti^r — Januaay i, 1884, . . .158. 
Letter — Verses — Christmas Eve — ^Tree party — My hostess 
and myself — Salutatory an impromptu poem — ^The eve- 
ning's entertainment — Twelfth Night — I shun sleep — 
"Characteristics" — Sending the book — A letter from 
Miss B. — ^The article on Bums — Finis and reflections. 

Paris Lkttkr — April i, 1884, .... 166 

Enjoying Paris in fair weather — President Grevy — ^The 
numerous entertainments — ^There is no hostess — The 
musical side of Paris — A pleasant American family — 
Sunday afternoon concert — The music — The audience — 
To the Luxembourg with an American girl. 

Paris Lettejr — December 6, 1885, . . .16^ 
Letter acknowledged — I am again a wandering star — The 



xii CONTENTS. 

delights of travel — ^The poor king who lost his head — 
Thomas a Becket — Whitehall — Government buildings — 
Saw Gladstone's and Salisbury's seats — Went to Temple 
Bar— Old clocks— The cathedral— Vespers at Little St. 
Martin's — Crossed the Channel — Sight-seeing — Cuvier 
and Himiboldt — Experiences, drives and sights — Pleas- 
ant people we met. 

Paris Lktte;r — December 13, 1886, . . .175 

Return delayed by storms — Miss B came from Sweden 

— Proposed trip on the Nile — ^A line from under old 
Cheops. 

Paris IvBTTEjr — March 8, 1887, . . .177 

Disappointed about the Jerusalem trip — Contributions 
from every grand division — No date for sailing — Ladies 
from Louisville, Ky. — The title of the little book — 
Madame gives a house-warming — Bloom and beauty. 

Paris Lbttsr — April 26, 1887, . . .180 

Birthday anniversary — Dispensations of conscientiousness 
— How the days go — The sight-seeing never comes to an 
end — ^The "Salon" open for the Annual Exposition — 
At the Exposition — Numerous pictures — "Theodora," 
Sara Bemhardt's great character — Two French ladies — 
The musical entertainment given me — Paris in the 
month of May. 



Paris I/:^tti;r — May 29, 1887, . . . .185 
The letter and the book — Figures and a woman's age — 
Pictures — Millet's " L'Angelus " — Subjects and charac- 
ter of paintings — "The little book" — The drive — 
Champs Elysees as a fashionable resort — The enchant- 
ment of the scenes — "The little book" again, and 
again. 



CONTENTS. xiii 

Vknice Letter — June 8, 1883, . . .192 

The letter in fancy from Florence — No rules from the 
flight of imagination — Longfellow says it for me — 
Venice in June — Drifting about in a gondola— The 
Grand Canal — ^The dazzling glory of the scene — A 
trance; a dream; perfect, perfect Venice! — Allusion to 
a story of life — A book to come forth — If I am to die 
to-morrow . . . — The ideal woman and friend — 
Kentucky gossip — Oh! oh! oh! perfect, perfect Venice! 

I^ucERNE Letter — ^June 26, 1883, . . . 201 

The wooden horse of Donatello — Goethe's palm tree — 
From Padua to Verona — Juliet's tomb — The house of 
Capulets — Milan — The cathedral — Grand Victor Eman- 
uel Gallery — Pictures in galleries — Visit to libraries — 
View of levees — Italian lakes and scenes — The tropical 
bloom — Nightingale songs — The grand climb up the 
Alps — The glaciers — Snow flower, edelweiss— The ruins 
of castles — The moonlight scene — The descent from the 
Alps — The aching heart, like the d)dng gladiator. 

Vienna Letter — October 17, 1883, . . . 214 

No end to the beginning — The opera — Letters — The sur- 
face of things — Below the surface — Knowledge of more 
breadth — My hostess — Wagner's operas — The object of 
my pilgrimage to Vienna — The aurist of Burope — The 
specialist's quarters — ^The Imperial Library. 

Siena Letter — March 4, 1883, . . . 224 

Things we saw on the way — Shrine of Petrarch's Laura — 
The Papal palaces — The frescoes — Musee Calvet — Ver- 
net Gallery and pictures — ^The moonlight drive to Mar- 
seilles — At Cannes — An English lady — Hotel on the 
sea-front — ^The moonrise out of the sea — Bishop Little- 
john, of Rhode Island — ^A tram-drive — Excursion to 
Monaco and Monte Carlo — Pisa — Geneva — Mt. Blanc. 



xiv CONTENTS. 

RoMK Letter — March 19, 1883, . . . 231 

An Ohioan from Granville — Naples and views — Museums 
and the palace of Capodimonte — Picture of Michael 
Angelo and Vittoria Colonna — Pompeian frescoes — 
Vittoria Colonna's husband — Vesuvius at night — Long- 
fellow's poem, "Amalfi" — Paestum — Ideal drive — Mu- 
seimi — Narcissus listening to Echo — Palm Sunday at 
St. Peter's — The Sistine Chapel — Goethe's words — 
Hawthorne's Rome — The Marble Faun — Springtime — 
Christmas flowers — Christmas souvenirs. 

Rome Letter — April 4, 1883, .... 238 

Scenes along the coast of Italy — I/ittle villages — ^The 
mountains — Monastery of the Capuchins — The maca- 
roni factory — The monastery and monks — Our Paestum 
day — Vesuvius before the charmed gaze — Birthplace of 
Tasso — Celebrated places — Second trial of Naples — 
Trip from Naples to Rome — Ancient Capua — Monte 
Casino, its associations — Rome — Palm Sunday — Various 
services — English lady — Holy Week — Drive on the Via 
Appia — The Catacombs and tombs — The grotto — The 
tree of Numa's wisdom. 

Rome Letter — April 24, 1883, . . . 251 

Importance of address in a foreign land — Guercino's 
fresco of Aurora — Scene in Imperial Rome — ' ' Rome 
mistress of the world ' ' — Story of Eve — ^Tasso memorial 
room — Swarm of lizards — A view of St. Peter's — Pom- 
pey's statue — The Plaza — ^The Jews' quarters, called 
Ghetto — The house of Rienzi — Protestant cemetery — 
Burial place of Keats and the heart of Shelley. 

Rome Letter — May 2, 1883, . . . .261 

' ' While Rome stands, the world stands ' ' — The rounds of 
churches — ^The galleries and museums — Palaces and 
shops — ' ' Being in Rome, do as Romans do ' ' — Piazzi di 



CONTENTS. XV 

San Giovanni, the largest in existence — One of the 
eleven obelisks — Mosaic frescoes — ^The queen in her 
carriage — Church of St. Onafrio, on the Janiculus — ^The 
three frescoes by Domenichino and I^eonardo da Vinci 
— ^Tasso buried here — ^Three churches of the Aventine — 
Galleries — ^Artists' quarters — Our Rodgers and Ives — 
Their art — Italian artist — Dwight Benton, formerly of 
Cincinnati, Ohio — Italian scenes. 



Maiori Letter — April 5, 1886, . . . 274 

Apology for delinquent letter — "What a butterfly she 
is ! " — One of the party sick — On the Mediterranean — 
Longfellow's poem — ^The steep climb — The poor little 
donkey — Features of the scene — "The death in life " — 
The region abounds in drives — Talk of Sicily and Africa 
— A letter — ^The sacred few . . . — The little book — 
Blessed be the potato, henceforth and forever ! 

INaples Letter — May i, 1886, . . . 281 

A drive to Salerno — From there to Paesttmi — The temple 
of Neptune — ^An incident of missing glasses — Return to 
Salerno — Then to Pompeii — Naples — Friends from 
Tunis — A steamer for Sicily — Storm at sea — Palermo, 
its environs — The palaces — The drives and places we 
visited — The museum, Metopes, and splendid art — 
Beauty of the country — The fountain of Arethusa — 
Roman amphitheater — The quarries — Mt. Btna — ^The 
seven rocks of Cyclops — Messina — That coat of arms 
of Sicily — The heart-ache of good-byes. 

Lattterbrunnen Letter — ^July 29, 1886, . 291 

Wrought up over letters — " Poaching on your preserves " 
— The cause of wit — Friends, their character estimated 
— Of writing — Sojoiurn in the beautiful valley — The 
Staubach — The Jungfrau. 



xvi CONTENTS. 

Egypt Estter — December 30, 1886, . . 295 

Aboard steamer Prince Abbas— On the Nile — "In the 
teeth of a storm " — Sunrise and sunset on the Mediter- 
ranean — Acquaintances, a citizen from the "hub" — 
At Alexandria — The seven wonders — ^To Cairo — English 
officers — The Pyramids — Pillars at Heliopolis — "The 
Virgin's tree" — The island of Rhodda — Mosques and 
tombs — The site of Memphis — ' ' Twelve miles of won- 
derland—The air — The flowers — The guests on steamer 
— One can live too much in books. 

Egypt Lktter from Paris — February 10, 1887, 302- 
Agreeable surprises — Down the Nile — The atmosphere 
and mysterious influence of scene — lyanding of steamer 
— Our donkey ride — The tombs — The imposing magnifi- 
cence of the monuments — Rain in Egypt — Reflections — 
Pictures to help tell the story — The coming book. 

Cuba E^tter — April 7, 1885, . . . . 307 
The magical isle of Cuba — Tropical vegetation — Sunrise 
in the harbor of Havana — The trip on the steamer— 
Moro Castle — Strange scene on landing — The buildings 
— The drive, atmosphere and scenery — The watch inci- 
dent — Shopping expedition — People we met — To Cerro 
— Sugar plantations and process of sugar-making — The 
caves — The beautiful island, Cuba — The freedom of 
slaves — Spanish government. 

A Vision of Fatigue, ..... 32a 



U.ST OF IIvI^USTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Shakespeare's Birthplace, from below, Stratford, ii 

Room in Shakespeare's Home, Stratford, . . 12 

Mary, Queen of Scots, Edinburgh, 32 

Pension and Garden to which Goethe wrote a 

Poem, Heidelberg, 38 

The Old Kaiser at Historical Window, ... 71 

lyouis II, the Mad King of Bavaria, .... 90 

Queen I^ouise, 126 

The Historic Windmill, 131 

The Old lyion, lyUcerne, 147 

The Old lyion at the Arsenal, Venice, . . . . 192 

I^ord Byron's Palace, Venice, 196 

Pantheon, Rome, 242 

Strada dei Sepolcri (Street of Tombs), Pompeii), 248 

Quirinal, Rome, 259 

Naples, General View, 281 

Peasant Cart, Palermo, 283 

Interior of Museum, Palermo, 285 

Archimedes, 288 

Head of Medusa, Palermo, 290 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. 




(HERE to begin ? That is the question. 
The ideas, thoughts, feelings, come, not 
in battalions, but like the hosts of Alexander, or 
our own, in *^ the late unpleasantness,** or like 
the bubbles in the foam on the crests of the 
waves ** a moment here, then gone forever.** I 
am wishing for the arms of Briareus, with their 
hundred hands, to help catch and fix them on the 
page. Such a trip ! The Atlantic was never 
known to exhibit such a peculiar turbulence 
of waves and water generally. The steamer 
Adriatic (in which we sailed April 6th) kept 
up such a lurching and pitching as I never had 
an idea of before. One day it was impossible 
for me to keep my feet, and after trying in 
vain to dress in the morning, I retired to my 
berth. But it was as much as the sailors could 
do to keep their feet, and three were badly hurt. 
How my friends would have laughed, could they 
have seen my frantic struggles to accomplish a 
toilette. The two ** steamer trunks** and our 
hand satchels were chasing each other all around 

(0 



2 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

mc, and knocking wildly from one side to the 
other, and I in the midst, shooting and slipping, 
clutching and grabbing, wildly, frantically, at 
doors, berth and washstand* But I was so glad 
not to be seasick, I didn't mind anything else 
much. 

One spectacle of this turbulence in the 
'*r-r-r-rolling forties,** as the chambermaid called 
our bearing (I wish I could give that whirr of 
her r s), was of peculiar and extraordinary sub- 
limity and uniqueness* It kept me at my port- 
hole for I know not how long. The steamer 
was sweeping right along in an immense hollow, 
or crater as it were, in the ocean, and in which 
was comparative calm. Afar off the water rose 
in encircling ranges of vast mountains — ''^Alps 
upon Alps** — capped with white foam. From 
these snowy cones, like the eruptions of volcanoes, 
burst forth in swift succession great columns of 
the seething mass that shot upward apparently 
to the very heavens and exploded. 

I did not know at the time that this was 
unusual, but in speaking of it afterwards found 
it had not been observed by the other passengers 
— ^all or the most of whom were seasick — nor 
have I since met with any traveler who had 
ever seen it; nor read any description of it. 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. 3 

We had a lovely Easter Sunday on the 
broad Atlantic. The captain presented me with 
two Easter eggs prepared expressly for me as a 
testimonial of my good seamanship. I was 
never seasick. The device was a white star 
and the name of the steamer — Adriatic. I was 
the only lady thus honored. We had a pleasant 
company: R. H. Dana and his wife (a daughter 
of Longfellow), two charming ladies, relatives 
of Longfellow, a Unitarian minister and his 
young sister, all from Boston; and a Mrs. 
Blake, from Canada. These were the parties 
we saw the most of, except Mrs. Dana, who 
was not well. Mr. Dana was one of the most 
attractive and interesting persons I ever met, 
the kind that has the effect of a flash of sunlight 
coming into a room. One of the ladies was a 
Unitarian, and that brought us together. The 
minister was going to attend a Unitarian con- 
ference of the English Unitarian Church, which 
met at Liverpool, April J 8th. She and I consti- 
tuted ourselves delegates at large, and decided to 
attend. We landed Sunday, the J 6th, remained 
till afternoon, attending church at an old cathedral 
of some note; then lunching at the Northwestern 
Hotel, and away we came to Chester. 

How much do you know about Chester ? 



4 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

PlI take for granted all its history. The '^old 
cathedral city'^ and the ^^old walled city^^ is 
the way the guide-books speak of it. I walked 
its two miles of wall^ well-preserved, picturesque, 
and commanding lovely views. I mounted one 
of the towers on it, called King Charles the 
First^s, because from it he watched the fatal 
progress of the battle of Rowton Moor. I looked 
out of the very queer little windows from which 
he watched. The old woman who shows it is 
as bright and keen of tongue, if not as incisive, 
as Mrs. Poyser. She said she liked Americans, 
and always enjoyed their visits, and that they 
paid her every year a most extraordinary honor. 
** Just think of a whole country celebrating your 
birthday 1 Would n*t you feel honored ? That *s 
what you Americans do.^* She said it with 
mischievous, snapping eyes. Of course I took 
in in a moment that the Fourth of July was her 
birthday. '*Ah,'' I replied, ** and to think of fifty 
millions of people doing all that honor, and not 
knowing what they are doing.** ** Fifty millions 
of people ! ** She came right up to me, and her 
look changed to amazement — **what a grand 
country it must be I ** I told her it was too bad 
her name was unknown, and she must give it to 
me. ''Mary Huxley.*' I said. 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND, 5 

** Why, Mary Huxley, you Ve a very good name, 
And I 'm sure I think it a crying shame 
That it is not better kncwn to fame." 

You ought to have seen her delight* She 
talked to me down to the very last step, after 
giving me **a, hearty grip** by way of good-bye. 

Then I saw Chester Cathedral, where 
Hugh Lupus, nephew of William the Conqueror, 
is buried. On Sunday night, some of us at- 
tended service there, after which there was an 
organ recital, a very fine performance* Next 
morning, all five of us went down into the 
dark, damp, crypts. The amount of exquisite 
carving in it is something wonderful. I am not 
going into the age and size of it and all that. 
Go to the library and get a book on English 
Cathedrals and Cathedral Towns and read, and 
think that that is what your correspondent is 
seeing. Another one is St. John's Church, still 
more ancient, with its abbey, a lovely ivy- 
covered ruin. I could not bear to leave it. 
Another feature is the old castle now used as 
an armory and barracks. The hands of the 
Romans have left many evidences of their work 
here in the wall, the columns still standing in 
place of some kinds of fortifications. The old 
town is full of queer things, and has a wierd 



6 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

sort of fascination; among these **the Rows/' 
a succession of arcades built on the roofs of 
ancient triangular-shaped houses. The hand- 
somest shops are in them. The neighborhood 
has the honor of containing Eaton Hall; the seat 
of the Duke of Westminster. We visited it, 
driving and walking all over its splendid walks, 
and gardens, and lawns, and parks, and getting 
a first-rate look Into the palace. We could not 
go inside, because it was full of workmen finish- 
ing the inside ornamentation. The grounds are 
ten square miles in extent. There were immense 
conservatories, full of the rarest flowers and 
plants. In one I saw the Egyptian lotus floating 
in full bloom in an immense tank. The head 
gardener was our guide. He was a very intel- 
ligent person, well-mannered and pleasant and 
clever, because he gave me a handful of flowers 
and broke off a nice little branch from a cedar of 
Lebanon, brought from the Holy Land expressly 
for the place. He gave us a great deal of infor- 
mation about the family; among other things 
he told me the Duke was not handsome, but a 
good man. He spoke with emphasis. 

The Dee winds through those miles of acres 
and is spanned by a number of bridges. The 
villages of the tenantry are pretty and looked 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. 7 

comfortable. I saw deer by hundreds in the park. 
We returned to Liverpool, and remained two 
days in attendance on the conference. A num- 
ber of the leading men were there, and we heard 
them speak and preach. There were Armstrong, 
Carpenter, Sir Thomas Hayward and others. 
They were fine-looking men, and extremely in- 
teresting. The audience was as enthusiastic 
and demonstrative as that of our Methodist 
Conferences. 

From Liverpool we whisked away to Rows- 
ley Station, Derbyshire, to the Peacock Inn, the 
quaintest manor-house, now doing duty accord- 
ing to its name. The object of this was to visit 
Chatsworth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, 
and Haddon Hall, a lovely unused ruin, belong- 
ing to the Duke of Rutland. The country in 
every direction was a vision of beauty — a sea of 
living green — ^bespangled with flowers as thickly 
as the floor of heaven is inlaid with stars ; or in 
Derbyshire, breaking up into great cliffs, show- 
ing the beautiful stone which is so generally 
used in building. The grounds of the inn were 
washed by the Derwent, a winding stream of 
exceeding beauty. 

We made an early start in a wagonette for 
Chatsworth. It was an ideal day — the Spring 



8 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

in full burst, with that delicate film of blue mist 
that always makes me think of a veil, to enhance 
its charms — the whole way a succession of pic- 
tures — vales, swelling uplands, far hills, the Der- 
went in its curious curves* We were speechless 
and exclamatory by turns. 

Chatsworth is a palace, in the midst of its 
thousands of acres cultivated and adorned in 
every possible way; its exquisite lawn laid out 
in innumerable gardens in Italian, Alpine, Ger- 
man, French, and ever so many other styles; 
its wonderful conservatory designed by Sir 
Joshua Paxton, who modeled the Crystal Palace 
on the same plan, as you no doubt know; and 
the gorgeousness of the long suite of show 
rooms. The rooms of course are filled with 
all that the money and taste of its long genera- 
tions have accumulated — the rooms in them- 
selves, for their noble dimensions, rich, tasteful 
and expensive finish; and their lovely views of 
stream, lakes, meadows, forests, and lovely 
distances. I saw the hangings of a state bed- 
stead worked by Mary Queen of Scots, and the 
Countess of Shrewsbury; the rosary of Henry 
the Eighth; and some portraits of the beautiful 
duchesses that have distinguished the house 
(though not Georgiana); and some splendid 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. ^ 

pieces of statuary. I shall never forget Canova's 
Endymion, and Thorwalsden's Venus. The 
guide went round the grounds by my side and 
proved himself a most agreeable fellow — telling 
me all the family gossip I cared to know. I 
dare not attempt to get it all in here, though 
Fve a misgiving you^d rather hear it than all 
the rest. I may as well tell you that I always 
keep close to the guide and — it pays. They are 
always the head, or one of the gardeners, and 
are a constant astonishment to me for their good 
manners, choice language, as well as their 
intelligence. 

I asked if the heir, the Marquis of Hart- 
ington (leader in the House of Commons), was 
handsome; he laughed merrily, shaking his 
head, '*No indeed, he is very plain, and you 
just ought to see him slouch around here. This 
is the way he walks " — and he gave an illus- 
tration to my infinite amusement. Only he and 
I were together, the rest were lagging a wide 
interval behind. 

The deer park has two thousand acres and 
eight hundred head of deer. We saw several 
different herds of one hundred each, perhaps 
two hundred. 

Next by a short drive, to Haddon Hall on 



10 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

a hill overlooking as fair a scene as eye would 
care to dwell on. A soft drab stone, time- 
stained and worn, moss and ivy covered, it is 
an immense pile built around a quadrangular 
court, with its ancient rooms sufficiently well- 
preserved to show in what state it was kept away 
back in that romantic age. The grand ban- 
queting hall, with antlers for ornaments, its old 
table in the upper end, with the same old benches, 
both worm-eaten; besides this the dining hall 
for daily use, wainscoted to the ceiling in heavy, 
dark oak panels, and a great round table; the 
drawing-room with its arras, hangings said to 
be of the fourteenth century, the bed-rooms hung 
in the same way ; the dancing saloon one hun- 
dred and ten by seventeen feet wide, with its 
grand stained windows, and a bust of one of 
the countesses taken after her death. I went up 
Percival tower and stood on it looking down 
into the ** inner court '^ (the quadrangle) and off 
over the landscape, and trying to imagine **the 
olden time.*^ There is a door opening on to 
an avenue of yews with alterrace and steps 
into a walled flower garden with a postern gate 
in the wall, outside which are steps leading to a 
bridge across the moat beyond which lies an 
expanse of open meadow, and a pretty story 




PQ 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. U 

says the loveliest daughter of the house stole out 
this way to ** off and away/' with her ** young 
Lochinvar/' he and his steed awaiting her at 
the hither side of the bridge* The little boy 
who opened the postern for us, said in answer 
to us : ** This is the gate, and them's the steps, 
and that are the bridge she crossed to the 'oss/' 
From the Peacock next a.* m, to Stratford- 
on-Avon! Next day was Sunday, and the 
birthday of Shakespeare. Think of my spend- 
ing it at his birthplace ! It is almost too much 
to rea]ize. The first afternoon we walked to 
see his birthhouse (just the outside), the hall 
where Garrick's present stands, and the bridge 
over the Avon from which is a pretty view of 
the church where he lies. The morning found 
us all fresh and ready for church. There was 
fine music and a full congregation. You know 
the whole service is intoned in the English 
Church. When the vicar went to his desk for 
that I dreaded to hear a word, fearing it would 
not be in harmony with the day. It proved to 
be the best sermon I ever heard from the Epis- 
copal pulpit, indeed an inspiration. After the 
congregation was dismissed we asked permission 
to enter the chancel to see the grave, and I had 
a collection of the flowers he knew so well to 



J2 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

lay upon it. It was '* against rule^* to let any- 
one in at that hour, but the vicar instantly and 
courteously accorded us this as soon as he knew 
we were Americans. I knelt and laid the 
flowers by the inscription. The ** painted bust ** 
is just above the grave. I did not like it. It 
looked both beefy and beery. Too much so 
for my ideal of him who the vicar had just said 
*^was the greatest poet and perhaps the greatest 
being that ever lived.*^ It was the 3 1 8th anni- 
versary. No wonder he chose ** Trinity ^^ for 
his last resting-place. It is a beautiful situation 
on the Avon, and from the street you walk up 
a long avenue of lime trees, on either side of 
which are the graves of centuries. We stayed 
three days at Stratford, and to-morrow we go, 
as the great Cardinal went, ** by easy roads to 
Leicester;** we are going to London. 

May 1st. We came here Saturday, after 
such a two days in that ** ancient university 
city,** Oxford, as I hope most fervently I shall 
repeat in extenso. It was from one extreme en- 
joyment to something beyond! I stepped into 
the university founded by Alfred the Great, a 
huge mass of time-stained and somewhat crumb- 
ling marble. I went through ChHst College, first 
into the kitchen. '* The very best time you could 



?d 




LETTER FROM ENGLAND. 13 

have come/* said the usher. Dinner was in full 
progress! The room is a cube of forty feet. 
Such a baronial banquet preparation I never saw. 
The oldest relic is the door leading into the court, 
where the fuel is kept, heavy, black, battered, 
iron-bound oak. From the kitchen to the refec- 
tory, with its splendid array of pictures. Going 
out under the tower, we heard '^old Tom*' ring 
out the hour in his sonorous tones. To Mag- 
dalen College to see the chapel with its wonderful 
immense window in brown sepia, three hundred 
years old, representing the day of judgment, and 
its reredos extending from the floor to the ceiling 
and from side wall to side wall. Then to ** Ad- 
dison's Walk,'* the loveliest, most sequestered, 
serpentine, and then long great vista of greenery, 
bound on either side by lovely streams and wide 
meadows edged with pollard willows. To New 
College, with its rival chapel and great window, 
designed by Sir Joshua Reynolds, representing 
Faith, Hope, and all the virtues mentionable. 
Anything more exquisite than Hope was never 
fashioned by man. The window is made, it is 
said, of the finest stained glass in the world. We 
passed by the church where Amy Robsart lies. 
At Warwick we saw the magnificent tomb of 
her cruel earl, and the effigy of himself and third 



H BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

wife, carved and colored, reposing thereupon^ 
On to the Bodleian Library, with its treasures 
of books, rare old manuscripts, ancient illumin- 
ated works; I can^t enumerate its treasures, but 
one of the most curious and interesting was some 
papyrus rolls from Herculaneum, showing the 
scorch. Its picture gallery was a perfect fascina- 
tion, with its portraits and busts of a long array 
of historical persons whom we have admired, 
reverenced, loved, and hated, all our lives* It 
was all an aggravating rush from one thing to 
another, that one wanted to hang over and study 
and steep the whole being in. I would go to the 
Ashmolean Museum to see a few things — Al- 
fred's jewel, a priceless treasure, the chatelaine 
watch of Queen Elizabeth, in turquoise and gold, 
with the chain formed of charms in different de- 
vices — two of hair. I wondered if either was 
her own. Cromwell's watch right beside hers, 
heavy, thick, not very large, but looking as if it 
was meant to stand all the battering of the man's 
career. One of the most interesting of all the 
personal trifles — shall I call them ? — ^was a kind 
of charm worn by John Hampden in the civil 
war. This was the motto : 

** Against my king I do not fight, 
But fof my king and kingdom's right.* 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. \5 

There is not a spot in Oxford that is not 
enchanting. We staid at the "Mitre Hotel/' 
the oldest house in the city. Our room was 
wainscoted to the ceiling, which was divided 
into three compartments by rich and pretty pan- 
els in rich flowers. I did not like to leave it, 
though walking its floors was a feat of dexterity 
worthy of being chronicled, they were so sunken 
and irregular. We came whizzing through the 
loveliest lowland country, saw Windsor in a 
misty veil of light rain, and all at once we were 
in Paddington Station, in the cab, rolling through 
London streets and directly at our ooarding 
house. We are delightfully situated. Sunday 
morning we heard Spofford Brooks. He is just 
across the street. In the afternoon I went to St. 
PauFs to hear Canon Liddon. I was all eyes, 
if not ears. That splendid pile swallowed me 
up, mind, body and soul. And now with the 
din and clatter of four female tongues sounding 
in my ears, I will close this rambling epistle. 

L. G. C. 

Gfosvcnof Hotel, Chester, April J 7, J 882. 



LETTER FROM LONDOR 



EAM still in this grandest city of the globe* 
Every day seems a fresh era in life, each 
hour ushers in new and more delightful experi- 
ences. I am confirmed in my opinion that this 
^* little island/' but mighty kingdom of the earth, 
is to be more to me than all the rest, and that 
my plan to spend *'the season** in London was 
the very best I could have had* Indeed that 
was the one feature of this trip entirely clear to 
me. For the rest, I had a general outline to 
make headquarters of each of the great art 
centers, and let the gods provide the goods. No 
doubt I shall adhere to this in a way. Governor 
Chamberlain, who was here last year in August, 
said he could not have believed it would make 
such a difference to be here ** in the season.** I 
think you know the months of May, June and 
July constitute that elect time. Well, I have had 
as perfect a time as one could have in my way. 
Of course, there is that other — that means being 
presented at court, and getting into society, the 

(16) 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. \7 

first being the easier of the two! I have not 
hankered after either* There are some whom 
I have long admired, it would be a beatitude to 
know, such as the Earl of Shaftsbury, now 
eighty-one, whose whole life has been devoted 
to good and noble works (just last Tuesday he 
presided at the opening of a bazaar in behalf of 
a benevolent project), and the Duke of Devon- 
shire and his family, Gladstone, John Bright and 
such* Alas! ^^they are a pitch beyond my 
flight,*^ and so I am content to let all go* What 
I have drunk deep of is the great institutions — 
churches, galleries, the Tower, Parliament 
houses, hospitals, etc* 

The boarding house in which we are is 
kept by English people, just for Americans, and 
foreigners. English people do not board; it is 
not ** good form'* with them. The host, a very 
intelligent, affable gentleman, and his wife, a 
bright, kind, out-spoken lady, say *'they have 
known no Americans that have seen London to 
such advantage.^* They evidently regard us 
with great respect. 

Tuesday was a glorious day. We spent 
it at Windsor, were all over the palace shown 
to the public, on the terrace, saw the gorgeous 
Albert Mausoleum, and St. George^s Chapel 



18 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

with its exquisite monument to Princess Char- 
lotte, the most perfect piece of sculpture I ever 
saw, and also the touching monument to the 
Prince Imperial, with his recumbent statue on 
it, a good likeness in pure white marble. It 
seems to me quite probable, since seeing it, that 
Princess Beatrice may have been in love with 
him. From Windsor we drove through Eaton, 
and a beautiful English lane to Stoke Pogis to 
see Gray^s grave and the church and graveyard 
of the ** Elegy .*^ The little church is the most 
exquisite little gem I ever saw. I wish I dared 
give you a full description of that day, but it 
would take a ream of paper. 

Well, this is Sunday evening. I went to 
hear Moncure Conway this forenoon at his own 
chapel. I was so much interested, more than I 
have been by any one I have heard but Canon 
Farrar. You may have heard him when he 
preached in Cincinnati. You may not agree 
with or approve of his views, but one cannot 
help being greatly interested and instructed. He 
has a scholarly look — the bowed head, that trick 
caught by bending constantly over books and 
writing, and a lively, expressive countenance, 
the kind that shows the effect of constant asso- 
ciation with high thoughts and noble sentiments 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. J? 

and lofty aspirations. He is in the best sense a 
teacher. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Taft there, and 

my friend Miss cried out, ** Don^t you want 

to go back and speak to them ? *^ As we were 
in our carriage, and it was raining, I concluded 
to forego the pleasure. They are on their way 
to Vienna. It is rather pleasant to know so 
many Americans are around, even if you don't 
get to speak to them. We have a fresh supply 
of Bostonians. They are all chattering round 
the fire like so many daws — my companions du 
voyage helping their level best. They come and 
go, come and go, all the time. We often find 
ourselves laughing at large parties — ^'^Oh! look 
quick; there they are, another lot of our country- 
fellows.** They go about in gangs and every- 
body seems to recognize them at once as 
'* Americans.** I can*t tell how they, the English, 
know us ; but it is very easy for us to distinguish 
them. Their voices and pronunciation are very 
markedly different. All have a kind of abdom- 
inal pitch and intoning that are very pronounced. 
I have found some relatives here, people 
who settled in England two hundred years ago, 
when my branch of the family emigrated from 
Holland to America. They are as purely En- 
glish as I am American, and this is the first 



20 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

meeting since the original separation. One of 
my newly-found cousins is in the Somerset 
House, where he has a government office, and 
he 'would show us *^what it contained of inter- 
est.'* It is a government building, registering 
marriages, births, deaths, keeping records, etc. 
The way he made us skip round and up and 
down and through long corridors in upper stories, 
and deep down in almost the bowels of the earth, 
was good for our circulation if not for our feet. 
It was just going through a vast library, for all 
these things are kept in volumes bound in Russia 
leather and shelved and catalogued. He invited 
us for Tuesday evening to meet a party of rela- 
tives and special friends he wished me to know; 
so I am counting on something of an introduction 
to English life. Thereby is a romance, our meet- 
ing, etc. ; but of this another time. 

Well, our time is up, and on Wednesday I 
have arranged to leave for our Scottish tour. 
This takes up the eastern side of England, 
through York and Durham to Edinburgh, where 
we shall spend a week. Thence through the 
Tromcho* and lakes, Caledonia canal, Inver- 
ness and back to ^*Auld Reekie/* where we shall 
excursion to Abbotsford, Jedburg, and next 

* Trossachs. 



LETTER FROM ENGLAND. 21 

Glasgow and Ayr, and down through western 
England by the English lakes — ^Windermere, 
Coniston, etc., back to London. We may go 
to Wales, or leave that out for the present and 
go to the Isle of Wight, and so across the Chan- 
nel to some place in Brittany or Normandy, 
where we have ** booked '* ourselves for a month. 

J^. Vj. v^. 

Loadon, June H, }882. 




FROM LONDON TO EDINBURGH. 




(E LEFT London on the momingf of 
the i4th, after a seven weeks' sojourn^ 
and, I must say it, one of perfect delight and 
satisfaction. Old Londoners could not remem- 
ber a more charming ** season;'* the weather 
called forth rapturous comments, the city was 
full of attractions, the best and at their best, a 
most fortunate conjunction; and ^*all the world'' 
seemed peopling its palaces, crowding its hotels, 
thronging its temples of art and pleasure, and 
pushing its way through the packed streets, to 
enjoy them. Believe me, it took a stout wrench 
to break away from all that. But as we said 
to our hostess in response to her amiable 
urgency to detain us yet longer, **Dear Madam, 
how shall we 'see the world,' unless we 'move 
on f 

A four hours' railway ride brought us to 
York, where we "stopped over" till next after- 
noon to see the Minster, the walls and the ruins 
of St. Leonard's Hospital and St. Mary's Abbey, 

(22) 



LONDON TO EDINBURGH, 23 

and the ancient city ** in toto/* The sun shone 
for us in most lavish brilliancy, and we went 
after lunch to the Cathedral, spending an hour 
or more wandering ** through it with the verger 
all to ourselves** (which we always account 
a peculiarly good piece of luck, as much inter- 
esting information is to be gained, when he can 
give you undivided attention). 

We stood long before each of the great 
windows, too rapt in admiration, it must be 
confessed, to give due heed to the great budget 
of details our guide was so kindly pouring out 
for our benefit. The ** Five Sisters " was the 
first that arrested us, consisting of five lancet- 
shaped lights, fifty-four feet high by thirty wide. 
It was presented by five maiden sisters, who 
worked the patterns first. They must have had 
a busy time of it, and I am glad I was not one 
of them, but am one who has had the privilege 
of enjoying their pious handiwork. Next the 
west and east windows, the first about the size 
of the ^* Five Sisters,** the latter said to be the 
largest in the world. As to the exquisite beauty 
of each, that is unutterable. We lingered and 
loitered in nave and choir and transept, till long 
after the sun had set, and then walked back to 
our hotel, a palace fit for any queen this world 



24 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

has ever throned ; the views from its great French 
plate glass windows Victoria might be glad to 
claim. The next morning we attended choral 
service, and gave the entire forenoon to that 
splendid seat of Episcopal magnificence. From 
there we went to the ruins, both being in the 
same inclosure, a large tract laid out in beautiful 
walks and far-stretching expanses of lawn, with 
clumps of trees here and there, and beds and 
borders of flowers. I wish I had time to tell 
you how old these crumbling structures are, and 
the various fortunes to which they have been 
subjected. Suffice it that both are older than 
the time of the Conqueror, which surely would 
seem ancient enough. 

In the afternoon ^we were most reluctant to 
** stick to our program,** and go on to Durham, 
but we did. We had a reminder of home on the 
way in an hour*s stop at Newcastle-on-Tyne — 
as coal begrimed as Pittsburgh. I was glad to 
leave it behind, and find fresh, clean air coming 
into my lungs as it vanished from my sight. 
We ran into Durham in good time for a climb 
to its Cathedral, ^* unequaled in situation on a 
high hill/* Again we had a verger all to our- 
selves, and he proved a fellow with some wit. 



LONDON TO EDINBURGH, IS 

with all his overwhelming '' stock in trade '* of 
cathedral knowledge in architecture, 

I was so hoarse I could only croak^ but too 
athirst for knowledge to let that hinder. So, as 
I said something to this effect, ** Tell me about 
that — ^the book I have does not tell anything, 
though I got the best I could find '^ — ^with the 
most mischievous smile he burst out, *^ I think 
you got something worse, have n^t you ? ^* We 
were fast friends from that moment till I bowed 
*^ good-bye ^^ next day — crossing his willing hand 
with the inevitable silver shilling. You have 
read all about this cathedral; that it is a splendid 
example of Norman, early English, transitional, 
and perpendicular styles in its different parts; 
that St, Cuthbert is its patron saint, and his bones 
rest here; maybe, remember how his monks 

**Froni sea to sea, from shore to shore. 
Seven years Saint Cuthbert bore. 
And after many -wanderings past. 
He chose his lordly seat at last, 
"Where his cathedral htsge and vast 
Looks down upon the weir; 
There deep in Durham's gothic shade 
His reliques are in secret laid. 
But none may know the place," 

That was long ago, and now even I ** know 
the place,** I stood upon the flagstones that cov- 
ered it ! Bede is buried there, so I have to tell 



26 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

you that I leaned upon his tombstone and read 
the inscription: 

**Hac sant in fossa Bedae venerabilis ossa,** 

and recalled the story of the monk^s worry over 
his hexameter, his lucky nap, and the opportune 
help of that convenient angel, who fixed it up 
** all right ** while he slept the sleep of the right- 
eous* I saw the carved image of the Dun Cow, 
from which it got its name. I am not so sure that 
legend is so familiar to you. It took hard work, 
innumerable questions, search and research, for 
me to get hold of it, quaint and simple as it is. 
In that seven years* quest for a resting-place for the 
corpse, the monks had stopped with it at a place 
called Ward Law, from which they could not 
move it, it seeming fastened to the ground. This 
set them all praying to know where they should 
take it. The answer to their prayer was, ** Dun- 
holme*' (Durham). As they were searching 
about in great perplexity, they heard a woman, 
who was looking for her stray cow, call to her 
neighbor, asking if she had seen it. The cry 
back was: ^*She is at Dunholme.** Behold I 
this quest was ended. And the cow is a beauty 
of the kind that makes one wish she could be 
driven home into his own pasture, to be ** a pos- 
session forever.** She stands sleek and serene 



LONDON TO EDINBURGH. 27 

in her niche in the outer wall, and seems to fol- 
low you with a watchful gaze as you pluck 
buttercups and clover-blooms, lineal descendants, 
beyond a doubt, of those on which her prototype 
fed in the spacious close beneath hen 

We tarried atop that green hill and in those 
sacred precincts, till the fainter day that is far 
from twilight, though the sun is long gone, 
warned us of the late hour. Such an evening 
as we had in ancient Durham — ** a dirty hole in 
general," as a little Scotch boy wrote of it in 
J 820. And a little American woman verifies it 
to-day. First, a street concert by Highlanders 
in full national costume, with their screeching 
bagpipes. They ended and vanished. Then 
came trooping by a large body of the Salvation 
Army, with their leader, a woman, facing her 
forces and keeping time with a stick to their 
singing. She looked like a wild creature, and 
the spectacle was one more conducive to specu- 
lation than to admiration. As their frantic 
strains died away in the distance, a sweet, clear- 
ringing child voice burst forth. It soared up to 
us like a lark, 

** Singing as it soars and soaring as it sings." 

We opened our windows and saw a young 
boy standing in the street alone and without any 



2S BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

instrument, singing with an absorption that 
made him oblivious to his surroundings. He 
did not even notice the fall of the pennies for 
which he was singing, till a woman, who had 
stopped to hear him, gathered them up and put 
them into his hands. 

We felt as if we were listening to an incip- 
ient Brignoli. He went too. At eleven o^clock, 
the daylight not yet merged in night, we fell 
asleep to harp music, played by a band of Gypsies 
in most picturesque garb. We hurried to the 
cathedral next morning for ** choral service,** 
and heard some fine music, which attuned us to 
our loitering among its ancient memorials. After 
some hours inside we came out] into the lovely 
day, and strolled off for a walk. From the crest 
of the hill on which the cathedral is built to the 
water*s edge its wooded sides are laid out in 
beautiful shady walks. There we wandered, 
keeping up a running fire of exclamations at the 
beautiful broken views, gathering now a wild 
flower, now a fern, or stretching up for a leaf 
from the masses of thick foliage on the trees 
overhead. How the hours shot by ! Atop of 
the hill again, we found our way into a castle, 
in close neighborhood to the cathedral, a charm- 
ing old piece of antiquity, with its stores of rare, 



LONDON TO EDINBURGH. 29 

old curious things. I could fill a quire of old- 
fashioned letter paper and not do half justice to 
it. So I shan^t say anything more about it, but 
shut both eyes and mouth and get away from 
Durham, already grown fascinating enough to 
make me wish I could live in the shadow of that 
ancient pile with its **gothic shade.*^ 

Our route hither lay for the most part of the 
way along the coast of the German ocean. The 
white breakers burst right beneath us some- 
times, sending their roar to our ears. Away off 
occasionally glimmered a dream-like sail, or a 
phantom stretch of smoke from some passing- 
out-of-our-world vessel. Near enough for a 
good view we saw, 

"Markworth, proud of Percy's name,** 

very literally a ** castle by the sea,*^ as it seemed 
as if washed by its waves. The country land- 
ward was prettily rolling and laid off in fields 
of grain and pasture. Great flocks of sheep 
speckled the latter. A Scotch lady got into our 
** compartment'^ when we were still some miles 
from ** Dun Edin.^' She was very companion- 
able and pointed out all the features of note as 
they came in sight. 

The sun as it went down was a great 
puzzle to us ; it seemed to be setting in the east. 



30 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

and we could not get it to fit the points of the 
compass stowed away in our craniums. You 
see it did not set till nearer nine than eight 
o^cIock, and that gave it time to get almost round 
to where it had started from! The Scotch 
welcome quite won our hearts. We had written 
and engaged rooms a week before, so knew we 
would be expected. The landlady and three 
daintily-arrayed maids were in the hall, and the 
former, Mrs. Campbell, stepped forward and 
took our hands, with the sweetest-voiced wel- 
come! We felt at home at once. Just here I 
think I must give you a list of the people collected 
under her roof — ^tourists, here for a day or weeks, 
as may chance: an Episcopal High Church 
curate, from Wales; a Mrs. Smith and her 
daughter, from Australia; a Mr. Bruce, from 
the Cape of Good Hope (he was there when 
Stanley went there with the remnant of the host 
that made the trip with him ^* Across the Dark 
Continent ^0; a Mr. Masters and wife, from 
another part of South Africa, he an emigrant 
from Yorkshire and she a native born, but the 
daughter of an emigrant; a lady who resides in 
Oxford and is enthusiastic about it as a place of 
residence; two young ladies from the south of 
England; another two, sisters, from London; 



LONDON TO EDINBURGH. 31 

a Miss Gurley, a Scotch maiden lady, a great 
traveler and linguist, and altogether charming. 
She had been to the United States and Canada, 
three times* While in the United States, she 
was the guest of Bishop Potter. She belongs 
to Edinburgh, is living across the Firth, among 
the hills of Fife, not far from royal Falkland. 
Add us three Americans, and I think it could 
be called a mixed household, indeed. 

L. G. G. 

Edinburgh, July 4, 1882, 




EDINBURGH. 




jE spend our days as usual, ** sightsee- 
The first place we sought was 
Holyrood Palace. It is not palatial compared to 
Windsor, Hampton Court, and the situation is 
not a cheerful one — low, in a kind of a hollow. 
I can imagine it oppressively gloomy to a young 
girl of nineteen, just from gay and sunny Paris, 
and one of the ornaments of its brilliant court. 
In the picture gallery there is a lovely, full-length 
portrait of Mary; but there is a still lovelier pic- 
ture of her at the castle. I saw her apartments, 
her hzd with its faded velvet hangings, that are 
slowly dropping to pieces too; one of her paintings 
on marble, much chipped and defaced, showing 
no little merit; a piece of her embroidery in a 
glass case; the little mirror hung on the wall 
she doubtless took much pleasure in seeing her 
fair face in; the small supper-room, with its 
closet, where the dreadful murder of Rizzio was 
begun, and the splotch of blood on the landing 
at the head of the stairs, where it was finished. 
How well we seem to know all about her — 

(32) 




Mary Queen of Scots, Edinburgh, 



EDINBURGH. 33 

poor queen, unfortunate and to be pitied, even if 
as wicked as her worst enemies think. At the 
castle, on the hill that springs up in the very 
heart of the city, another suite of ** Queen Mary's 
apartments ^* is shown, in one of which her son 
was bom. The situation of the castle is incom- 
parably fine. It overlooks the entire city and a 
wide and varied range beyond. Ben Lomond 
and Ben Ledi show themselves to the north-west, 
and on a fair day the Pentland hills lie low and 
purple in another direction; the Firth carries the 
gaze with it to the sea in the east, and it is dotted 
with pretty islands, and its thither side is bounded 
by the misty shores of Fife. This same view is 
commanded by Arthur's Seat and Calton Hill. 
Arthur's Seat is the highest point — everybody 
and every guide-book says so, and I know it 
from experience f having climbed its 823 feet. We 
make all kinds of excursions in the environs, and 
find it the easiest thing in the world to keep up 
our ecstasies. 

Alexander Swift says, ** Every true Scots- 
man thinks Edinburgh the most picturesque city 
in the world.'' No wonder. It certainly 
possesses every feature requisite to constitute 
that preeminence — ** hill, crag, castle, rock, blue 
stretch of sea, the picturesque ridge of the old 



34 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

town, the squares and terraces of the new*^ — 
the quaint streets with their ancient houses 
** peaked and jagged by gable and roof, and 
windowed from basement to cope *^ with those 
small diamond-paned sashes that seem meant 
only **to make darkness visible/* and yet other 
streets of a later and more stately architecture ; 
the No/ Lock converted into a dreamland of 
park and gardens; the splendid monuments 
arresting the eye in every direction to recall the 
illustrious dead and give proof of the appreciation 
and taste of the living; the hills, crags and 
slopes that ** stand dressed in living green/* and 
the squares and terraces a mass of verdure and 
flowers — all these and more are the charms of 
this ^*Edina, Scotia^s darling/' Add to them 
the innumerable resorts, historic, beautiful, 
grand! — Oh I everything — all around in every 
direction, and one's sympathy leaps forth to meet 
that of ** every Scotsman/* 

Now, shall I tell you what a ** Bohemian ** 
I have grown to be? Perhaps you will be 
shocked, but really it is the most fascinating life 
conceivable, and not to be condemned untried. 
We go where, and when, and ho'w we please; 
en grandes dameSf in the conventional splendor 
of full dress and the swellest turnout of the 



EDINBURGH. 35 

stand, this always ** under protest/* Oftener, 
we set our own *^ locomotives ** to the way and 
find unsuspected Edens. But oftenest and to 
my hearths delight, we mount to a super-royal 
perch atop of the **tram/* as the street car is 
called here, and **view the landscape o*er** at 
such advantage as no crown or throne can com- 
mand. And that*s the way we went to Morning 
Side, Edinburgh's Clifton, and to Portobello, its 
sea-bathing resort. Don't be alarmed though; 
we are not setting a fashion, only following one 
already established. If only this mode of travel- 
ing were practicable for everywhere. Alas! 
instead the railway comes in to sadly curtail the 
enchantment of ** views.'' We had to submit 
to it in order to see Roslyn Chapel, that ideal 
morceau of architecture, that exquisite efflores- 
cence of solid rock, that chapel of chapels, ** one 
among ten thousand and altogether lovely." 
First we struck through Hawthorden, a wall^ 
of three miles, beginning with an ordinary park 
that quickly led to an ivy-mantled ruin, hung 
on the very brink of a beetling crag, the rock- 
ribbed foundation of which dropped almost sheer 
to a swift and clamorous stream two or three 
hundred feet below. In this underlying base- 
ment of rock, queer caverns had been hewn, but 



36 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

farther back than dates reach. We explored 
them notwithstanding some hesitation, which, 
however, gave way to the liveliest enthusiasm. 
In one we came across a sword of Robert Bruce 
in an open wire case* The meshes were about 
an inch in length; by counting them I found 
the sword measured fifty-eight inches* I won- 
dered how much taller the warrior was than his 
weapon of warfare! Leaving these caverns 
we were soon descending a path that brought 
us to the edge of the stream and then ran along 
it the rest of the way. Anything wilder or 
more beautiful is rarely met, but I have seen 
Trenton Falls in my own native land, and it 
surpasses. Climbing the hill again at the end 
of the three miles we reached the chapel. An- 
other day we spent at Dunfermline. In the 
Abbey we stood on the grave of Robert Bruce; 
it is right under the pulpit. In the ancient and 
long-disused, but well-preserved, nave we saw 
that inexplicable caprice or trick of architecture, 
one of the great Norman columns that scanned 
from one place shows the upper half much 
smaller than the lower ; from another, the reverse 
effect, and from yet another, a pillar of perfect 
proportion. The ruins of the old palace and 
part of the abbey are very touching and beauti- 



EDINBURGH* 37 

fuL It too has ** a den/* as every deep wooded 
and rocky glen with a stream running through 
its dark length is called* We sat on the rustic 
seat under a grand old tree and looked at the 
ruins and moralized, raved over the vistas, 
shadows, flashing sunlight and — munched our 
lunch. Saturday we skimmed away on the 
wings of the delicious morning as well as the 
wings of steam to Dalkeith and Newhattle Abbey 
to spend the day between the two* The former 
is the favorite seat of the Duke of Buccleugh, 
the latter that of his son-in-law, the Marquis of 
Lothian* The ducal palace is positively ugly; 
but it has its complement of grand state apart- 
ments filled with fine pictures and the usual 
quota of superb articles of vertu and bric-a-brac* 
Newbattle Abbey is a charming home* Its 
park boasts some rare old trees, among them a 
giant beech that is *^a monarch of the forest*' 
verily, measuring twenty-three feet in girth* 
Thursday we start on our excursion to the 
Highlands; it will take a week* We shall 
return here for a fresh departure. Then look 
out for another half quire of this moving matter* 

L* G. C* 

Edinburgh, July 21, J882. 



HEIDELBERG. 




^N Heidelberg. Think of it! What an 
energetic idler I am grown I The Neckar 
lies a pistol-shot from my windows ; high hills 
rise on the thither side, looking so home-like — 
Maysville home, like Mr. W.*s, where you came 
once upon a time. When my glance darts out 
the windows and rests upon them, suddenly I 
catch my breath, and I am not sure whether it 
is pain or pleasure I feel. Half way up they are 
cultivated, but the tops are wooded. Just over 
my head the old castle looms up among the trees. 
*^The Gardens** of this pension where I am 
lead right up to it. I shall climb to it to-morrow 
for the first time. Reached here day before yes- 
terday, late; got settled yesterday for a good 
rest; shall stay here till the latest season for 
Switzerland; then it and on to Munich for 
another rest. 

Here's **a, mere mention** of where I have 
been since I wrote from '* Edina, Scotia*s dar- 
ling.*' From there to the English lakes we 
saw ten each lovelier than the last. I wish you 

(38) 



^ 



o 



o 

3 
c 

EI 





^^^^^^IH^I 


if ^'""' ''-^tIv 


•^^^^^I^H 


'■*?■■ "'^" "'"'■'''•■'■■''■'*'''-■'■■'■■ ■■■ 'i^iiiB 





HEIDELBERG. 39 

were within sound; how I would rave to you! 
Then ruins. Fumess Abbey and Fountain's 
Abbey, both beyond Melrose, and Dryburg in 
some respects. London for a week (where we 
parted). Then to Rochester for its cathedral, 
castle (a ruin) and Gad*s Hill, Canterbury. 
Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Dover, Ostend, ^*The Belfry of Bruges,*' 
Ghent, Brussels, seeing the king and queen 
gratis, Antwerp, The Hague, Rotterdam (the 
loveliest and liveliest of them all), Amsterdam, 
Cologne, Bonn, and a pilgrimage to the graves 
of Niebuhr and Bunsen, Coblen^, Mayence — 
from Bonn to Mayence being the grand Rhine 
trip. *^ The castled crag of Drachenf els,*' and 
innumerable other castled crags, sometimes as 
m.any as three in sight; the Lurlieberg; the 
sweet, song-famous Bingen; the world-wide 
known wine district, Rheingau, whence come 
the costliest wines in the world — Johannisberger, 
Reiderheimer, Steinberger, etc. I saw the Schloss 
Johannisbergers crowning a lovely vine-clad 
knoll, the entire vineyard or vineyards com- 
prised in forty acres. The Schloss is a very 
extensive chateau, but ugly; belongs to Prince 
Richard Mettemich, and yields a neat little in- 
come of £8,000 ($40,000). Some of our tobacco 



40 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

acres do almost as well ! We climbed the pre- 
cipitous rock on which ** the majestic fortress of 
Ehrenbrietstein ** is situated. It is opposite Co- 
hlcnZf and we crossed the Rhine to reach it on 
a bridge of boats* I saw three bridges of this 
kind* I guess they have been handed down 
since Caesar^s time. I could not find out their 
special merit. They are not particularly strik- 
ing — just a number of boats, sharp at both ends, 
side by side, with the solid flooring and railing 
of any bridge. 

The view from the fortress is one of the finest 
on this glorious stretch of seventy miles, and I was 
glad to see it. 

I wish I could lend you my eyes for a few 
minutes, so you could see what I saw. You *d 
come over and see it all, if it cost you that farm 
you spoke of in one of your letters, or another 
book! 

L, G. C. 

Heidelberg, August 15, 1882, 




HEIDELBERa 




AM just home, this is *^home^' for the 
present, from a week's delight at Nurem- 
berg. ** Delight/* how feeble that sounds. En- 
chantment, fascination, the absorption that makes 
one lovingly linger and loth to come away. It is 
the quaintest, most charming old city, I verily 
believe, that the sun shines on. From its streets, 
sometimes wider, sometimes narrower, but 
always crookeder, to its curious houses with 
their high-peaked gables and red-tiled roofs, with 
regular rows of such funny hooded windows 
let into them, and the upper stories all cut up 
into the most lavishly ornate towers, balconies, 
and sculptures; from its ramparts with towers of 
various forms at intervals, and its dry moat, 
thirty-five yards wide and thirty-five feet deep, to 
the river running through and dividing the town 
into nearly equal parts, spanned hy old and his- 
toric bridges ; from the churches, museums and 
galleries filled with the masterpieces of Durer, 
Kraft, Stoss and Vischer, to the shops with their 
bewildering medley of carvings in wood and 

(41) 



42 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

ivory, and castings in terra-cotta, bronze and 
brass, by the thousand nameless artists of to-day ; 
from — oh ! everything to everything. Just leave 
all the rest of Europe out if you can't get it and 
Nuremberg in. Think how you*d feel to see a 
lime tree planted by Queen Kunigunde in the 
year 1002! or a lamp that has never been 
allowed to go out since it was first lighted in 
1326 \ or a wedding in the Rathhaus! I saw 
them all. And saw besides, the Crown Princess 
and her daughter, and was not struck blind by 
the sight I And there was a great exposition in 
progress, and yesterday the anniversary celebra- 
tion of the victory at Sedan. The exposition 
was a grand and most artistic spectacle; and all 
** United Germany*' a spectacular display of 
multitudinous flags, and processions enlivened 
with human huzzas and band music ! I wish I 
dare tell you the half I saw, or a tithe of the 
ravishment of mind and soul wrought by that 
picturesque, haunting, old ancestral city of mine. 
My great grandfather went to America from it. 
Did I ever tell you ? Do you wonder I could 
not bear to tear myself away ? I am going back 
some day if I have the ghost of a chance. 

To-day I have been resting; too tired for 
church, for anything but this careless scamper 



HEIDELBERG. 43 

over a sheet of paper. Had an interruption in' 
a call from some Cape Colony English ladies, 
tourists as we are, whom we met at Inverness , 
and went with to the battle-field of CuIIoden; 
and again at Dunkeld. My traveling compan- 
ion, Miss S of Boston, struck them quite 

unexpectedly again yesterday on the **Old 
Bridge ** that crosses the Neckar, which I think 
I called Maine in my last to you. They are very 
agreeable, and their party consists of the mother 
and five daughters. Well, I do think the sheets 
of paper of the present day have the most lim- 
ited capacity. I am not half begun and this is 
used up ! Pshaw 1 

L. G. G. 

Heidelberg, September 3, 1882. 




BADEN-BADER 



m 



Is a reward for your reformation I write 

^^ _J to you on this precious sheet* You 

see I have come to be wonderfully attached 
to Heidelberg, the beautiful, the quaint, the his- 
torically poetic, learned and picturesque old town 
ontheNeckar* It seems like another home. So 
I could not show my appreciation of you in a 
more complimentary way than by sending this 
little series of pictures* Have you ever been 
here, I wonder ? You did not say, but you wrote 
as if you knew it by sight as well as by heart. 
As I cannot know, I will venture an explanation. 
The panorama speaks for itself. Put on your 
** specs ** and look at the castle, half way up the 
Berg^ ** the Jettenhuhl, a wooded spur of the Ko- 
nigestuhl** Look at it from the **Terrasse." 
Thus you *I1 get something of an idea of it. The 
Gesprente Thurm is the one that was blown up 
by the French. The thickness of the walls, 
twenty-one feet, and the solid masonry, held it 
so well that only a fragment, as it were, gave 
way. It still hangs as if ready to be replaced. 

(44) 



BADEN-BADEN, 45 

'^Das Grosse Pass Gebaude/* too, you will have 
no difficulty in making out. If you only had it 
with its 49,000 gallons of wine, but would n^t you 
divide with your neighbors I The columns in 
the portico that shows in the Schlosshof are the 
four brought from Charlemagne^s palace at In- 
gelheim by the Count Palatine Ludwig, some 
time between 1508-44, The Zum Ritter has 
nothing to do with the castle, but is an ancient 
structure (1592) in the Renaissance style, and 
one of the few that escaped destruction in 1693. 
It is a beautiful, highly ornamental building, and 
I wish you could see it, if you have not seen it. 

All the above information, I heg you to be- 
lieve, I do not intend you to think was evolved 
from my inner consciousness, but gathered from 
the — nearest guide-book I 

I am so much obliged to you for mapping 
out Switzerland to me. I have been trying my 
best to get all those *^ passes*' into my brain. 
Now, thanks to your letter, I have them all in 
the handiest kind of a bunch. Ariel like, **P1I 
do my bidding gently,*' and as surely, if I get 
there. But there are dreadful reports of floods 
and roads caved in and bridges swept away and 
snows and — enough of such exciting items as 
sets one thinking — **to go or not to go?** We 



46 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

are this far on the way. Reached here this aft- 
ernoon. Have spent the evening sauntering in 
the gardens, the Conversationhaus, the bazaar, 
mingling with the throng, listening to the band, 
and comparing what it is with what it was. It 
was a gay and curious spectacle, but on the 
whole had ^*the banquet-hall deserted ^^ look. 
The situation is most beautiful. It lies, you 
know, at the entrance of the Black Forest, 
among picturesque, thickly-wooded hills, in the 
valley of the Oos, and extends up the slope of 
some of the hills. The Oos is a most turbid, 
turbulent stream; dashes through part of the 
town with angry, headlong speed. There is an 
avenue along its bank of oaks, limes and maples, 
bordered with flower-beds and shrubberies, and 
adorned with fountains and handsome villas., 
We shall devote to-morrow to seeing all there is | 
to be seen, and go to Strassburg to-morrow eve- , 
ning for two or three days. From there to Con- 
stance, and then hold our ** Council ** as to further 
movements. 

L. G. C. 

Baden-Baden, September 19, J882. 



FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 



a 



[]UST after I last wrote I left my compan- 
ions to worry along over their ** German 
lessons/^ and ran away to Nuremberg. A very 
pleasant party was going there on the way to 
Vienna, and wished me to go along. Of all 
Germany, divided or united, Nuremberg was 
my objective point; for in addition to its special 
attraction as ^*the most perfect surviving speci- 
men of mediaeval architecture in Europe/' it has 
a nearer interest to me in that it was the home 
of my father's paternal ancestors, as far back as 
1570. So I went with alacrity. We left Heidel- 
berg at the reasonable hour of 10:50 a. m. 
Thanks to the moderate form of tourist life I have 
adopted, neither the hours of my ** beauty sleep'' 
nor that last supreme ** forty winks" of the 
luxuriant morning sleeper, are ever interfered 
with. Our way lay up the Neckar, and as the 
train left the Carlsthor it glided — literally glided, 
the rate of speed not exceeding from twelve to 
fifteen miles an hour, and it **the fast train," too ! 
— along the bank of the river, under an avenue 



48 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

of trees, giving ample time for one to take in 
views that one might delight to shut her eyes 
and recall in the dreamland hours of some future 
paradise* There were cone-shaped, beautiful, 
castle-capped mountains, the long winding valley 
with the river showing in many a lovely curve 
and shoot; village after village, in the mellowest 
tints of Indian red, brown, and drab, gathered 
around its church or chapel, almost every one 
with an amazing tall spire ; ranges of wooded 
hills that came together in one direction, or re- 
treated from each other in another, disclosing 
wonderful vistas; — and the weather! One 
moment a burst of sunlight; the next a veil of 
fleecy white clouds that changed into the mistiest 
blue; presently a dash of rain; then the brilliant 
clearing up again. Thus continued both views 
and weather to Heilbronn, forty-two miles. 
There are two historic points, Wimpf en am Berg, 
which occupies an old Roman station destroyed 
by the Huns under Attila; and Sinzheim, where 
Turenne gained a victory in 1674. I own their 
history was not half so interesting to me as their 
beauty. From Heilbronn to Nuremberg, over 
a hundred miles, the country was one great 
stretch of farming land, fine soil, and admirably 
cultivated. 



HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 49 

We ran into Nuremberg in a pelting rain. 
All the hotels full After being turned away 
from five, with the most proper apologies be it 
said, we found lodging, but ** no rations *^ except 
breakfast, at a private house. This was duly- 
served : coffee, rolls, butter and eggs, the last raw/ 
Fancy our amusement. Having left our names 
at the various hotels for the first vacancy, next 
morning the Golden Eagle found a place for us 
beneath its sheltering wings. We were fortunate 
in the time of our visit^a grand exposition was 
in progress. Nearly all of ^'united Germany,** 
as well as ** little Bavaria,** seemed thronging 
the hotels and crowding the streets. The Crown 
Prince and his family occupied two hotels. The 
exposition continues, and is really a superb 
attraction. As for the quaint, picturesque old 
city itself, I cannot believe there is another so 
fascinating. From its streets, sometimes wide, 
oftener narrow, always crooked; its houses, 
eight and ten stories high, with their lofty-peaked 
gables and red-tiled roofs, with five or more tiers 
of the funniest little windows; its churches, 
monuments, and repositories of the best produc- 
tions of that brilliant constellation of workers — 
Durer, Kraft, Vischer, Stoss and Hirschvogel — 
who lived and flourished there together; its 



50 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

shops, tempting with pictures, carvings, castings, 
and — ^toys; its museums, that it would take 
days to tell you about; its curious old bridges 
spanning the river Pegnitz, that divides it into 
two parts ; the fortifications, consisting of a 
rampart running round the entire old city, with 
towers at intervals, and a dry moat, thirty-five 
feet deep and as many yards wide; its old berg, 
or castle, that rises on a lofty sandstone rock 
with ^Hhe wide extended prospect*^ from its 
walls and windows, and the old lime tree in the 
court, planted hy Queen Kunigunde somewhere 
from J 004 to 1024; to the cemetery where Durer 
is buned, with its singular, but the most impress- 
ive monuments, plain, massive, low monoliths, 
with large plates inserted in the tops bearing the 
inscriptions. From first to last, everywhere and 
everything, the old town, all alive with the 
quickest beating of the pulse of the nineteenth 
century, was a delight and wonder. 

Do not dream of a half description of any- 
thing; there was too much for one pen — too 
much for a thousand pens. But you never saw 
lions, life size, made out of soap, did you ? Or 
temples, pagodas, monuments of every design, 
made out of buttons, matches, tacks, not mere 
toys, but big enough for out doors ? 



HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 51 

Among others of these artistic and archi- 
tectural structures, was a tall shaft monument 
of tobacco, fine-cut, twist, stem, and leaves, 
labeled — fancy my heart-throb on reading — 
'^ Maryland,** '^ Virginia,** ** Kentucky/* And 
these are some of the innumerable sights I saw 
at the exposition. What else did I see ? 

"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, -where have you been? 
I have been to London to see the Queen.'* 

I saw the crown princess and her daughter ! 
I looked at them and they looked at me — took 
me in as they did the shop-windows, trees, what- 
ever came within the sweep of their roving 
glance — just as I did them ! Such a plain, in- 
significant little party as they were ! The crown 
prince was not with them. Just two ordinary 
open carriages, the princess in the first, with her 
daughter by her side; in the other, a lady and 
gentleman in attendance. They came out from 
a shop of carvings fust as We were approaching 
it to enter. And I saw a wedding at the chapel 
of the Rathhaus (town hall) ! Neither the bride 
nor groom was on the sunny side of forty. She 
was dressed in a rich heavy black silk, with a white 
illusion head-dress, that was voluminous enough 
for a veil, though evidently not intended for one. 
The ceremony was apparently a simple civil 



52 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

service, conducted by the magistrate, or what- 
ever he was, and an assistant* The bridal party 
was accompanied by one person only — a gray- 
haired old gentleman. 

How the days sped by I The first thing I 
knew, ere I was half ready to leave, my last day 
had come. I bought a package of Nuremberg's 
famous gingerbread, and bidding my pleasant 
party ** good-bye,** most reluctantly betook my- 
self to my home-bound train. Traveling, as I 
was, alone, I was put in the special '^ ladies* ** 
car, ** Fuer Damen,** as it is labeled. Presently, 
another ** lone female ** was put in, who proved 
to be a young German lady. I began to stumble 
in German to her. She smiled, and replied in 
tolerable English, it being one of the five lan- 
guages of which she was in a manner mistress ; 
and she was just beginning the sixth I ** I have 
so much time,** she said simply, in explanation 
of such learning. She was educated in Geneva. 
If she is an average example of its pupils, Ge- 
neva*s schools must be indeed desirable. And 
the next thing I knew, our five weeks at Heidel- 
berg were gone, and it was time to **move on** 
again. 

We started for Munich via Baden-Baden, 
Strassburg and Switzerland — an attractive pro- 



HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG, 53 

gramme, but not less did it hurt to say another 
** good-bye'* to the pleasant friends we had 
made — ^the beautiful Pension, which had come 
to have a real home feeling; the romantic ** an- 
cient university town/' and the grand old castle, 
both Longfellow-haunted to me; and to the va- 
rious charming places in the environs — become 
almost as familiar as the favorite haunts of child- 
hood. Our bright little Fraulein, whose dainty 
motions made one think of a bird's, said in her 
very best English: **You must tired once more 
get, and soon again come home/' Her eyes were 
brimming with tears. The good frau mother 
took me in her arms, and in German fashion 
pressed each of my cheeks against each of hers. 
It was a most charming family. 

We spent a night at Baden, the great Spa — 
the ex-gambling hell — the beautiful city that has 
risen from its degradation and put on robes of 
innocence. This is due to the efforts of the pres- 
ent and the preceding grand duke, both men of 
exceptionally noble characters, and warmly hon- 
ored and loved. The former prosperity and 
popularity given by the seductions of the gam- 
bling bank have been succeeded and surpassed 
by attractions of a different and higher kind.' 
Instead of the dreadful fascinations of the Cur- 



54 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

sail, the palatial Friedrichsbad, said to be the 
most complete bathing establishment in the 
world, offers the healing and luxury of its ther- 
mal and mineral baths. It takes its name from 
the reigning grand duke, who was its chief and 
most intensely interested projector. But his wise 
exertions and princely tastes have apparently 
known no restrictions. They have been shown 
in the erection of other magnificent buildings, in 
the laying out and exquisite adornment of public 
parks and promenades ; indeed in doing every- 
thing possible to render Baden not only a de- 
lightful summer resort, but suitable for a perma- 
nent home. 

It is provided with theaters, balls, fine music, 
scientific lectures, etc. The results justify his 
efforts and sagacious foresight. Wealthy families 
of rank all over Germany are making it a home. 
Do I seem to dwell on Baden and its grand duke ? 
Well, I may as well admit, all the homage I am 
capable of is evoked by such a man and such a 
work. I have his photograph and many little 
pictures of his Baden ! Have you ever read in 
a way that impressed you to remembrance of 
the beautiful situation of Baden ? The highest 
compliment that can be bestowed, as the guide- 
book says, is this: **It vies with Hiedelberg.*^ 



HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG* 55 

It lies among picturesque wooded hills^ at the 
entrance of the Black Forest, on the Oehlbach; 
it is on the right bank of the stream, and runs 
up ** a slope of the Battert/^ the summit of which 
is crowned by the New Schloss, one of the 
grand duke^s residences. It has a Saratoga look. 
Haven^t all watering places a close kin look? 
But it has its own foreign look too, and distinct- 
ive features, even from those of Weisbaden, its 
rival. 

On the left bank of the Oos — ** the well cor- 
rected Oos,*^ as I have seen it called somewhere, 
because it has been confined for some distance 
between high stone walls — are the pleasure 
grounds, the Conversationhaus (the old Cur- 
saal), the Trinkhalle on one side of an open 
square, full of avenues of shade trees, and in one 
comer of which is the gay and fanciful ** Music- 
Kiosk,*^ where the band plays, and the Lichten- 
thale Allee. This last is an avenue of ** vanishing 
distances,** of lime trees, oaks, maples, flower- 
beds, shrubberies, fountains, and all kinds of 
ornamental seats scattered through it. The Oos, 
the most turbid, turbulent strip of a river, dashes 
along as if in a perfect fury at those confining 
walls. The walls themselves, though, are a 
special feature of the rare loveliness that meets 



56 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

the glance on every side; they are so festooned 
and draped with vines one can scarce more than 
guess at the stones so veiled. The Virginia 
creeper was so in excess the river seemed rush- 
ing between a running fire of crimson flames. 
It was indeed ** exceeding beautiful/* In the 
evening we walked in the brilliantly lighted 
square, peering into the gay shop windows, stop- 
ping to listen to the band, mingling with the 
throngs of well-dressed people, and bringing up 
in the ** great saloon ** (fifty-four yards long and 
seventeen wide) of the Conversationhaus for a 
rest and a study of the novel scene. Finally we 
strolled through the two old gambling saloons 
(the Landscape and the Italian) and ever so 
many others, and lost ourselves in admiration 
of the beauty and comfort. The next day we 
spent in driving to the Old Schloss, six miles 
from town, on a high **berg,** and to all the 
points of most interest. The Old Schloss is a 
very romantic old ruin, and commands the finest 
views around Baden, From it we went to the 
New Schloss, and were shown through a num- 
ber of handsome saloons and the apartment of 
the grand duke and duchess. It was such a 
perfect little gem of an apartment that I must 
give you a peep into it, A comparatively quite 



HEE)ELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 57 

small oblong room^ with two doors opposite each 
other and in the middle of each wall* One end 
of the oblong was a dead wall, the other a large 
bay window of the loveliest stained glass, in pic- 
tures of all the choicest points about Baden. 
Only the center pane was plain glass; it too, 
though, framing a lovely view of the scene out- 
side. The doors were rather doorways, being, 
I should think, ten feet high by four wide, all 
apparently one solid magnificent mirror. As one 
steps across the threshold, himself or herself is 
beheld before, behind, on either hand, overhead, 
in infinite repetition. The French custodian 
made merry in showing off this ingenious and 
amusing trick of reflecting surfaces. After this 
came the Friedrichsbad, with its innumerable 
varieties of baths, the Trinkhalle and a glass of 
its steaming water, and — ** and other things too 
numerous to make mention of,^* to quote from 
our old town crier. 

With decided reluctance we set our faces 
toward Strassburg, where, to be sure, we wished 
to go, but we did not feel ready to leave Baden. 

We spent two days at Strassburg. You 
know there was the grand Cathedral, with its 
grander clock, to see, the fortifications, some fine 
public parks, and the immense Alsatian bows 



5Z BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

with the women attached, besides a lunch on 
the famous local dish, pates de foie gras. I cir- 
cumnavigated the Cathedral, loitered through 
and through it, and finally sat down before the 
clock at the stroke of eleven, to watch it through 
the next hour. I saw the little boy come out 
and strike his quarter and disappear, the youth, 
the middle-aged man, the old man; and then 
the grand midday procession of puppets repre- 
senting the Apostles, pass before another puppet 
representing Christ, making fitting reverence, all 
but that dreadful Judas, who turned his back on 
him. The cock, too, performed beautifully, 
flapped his wings and stretched out his neck, 
and crowed a sure-enough chanticleer crow, 
loud enough and cheerily enough to waken the 
soundest sleeper and make the laziest willing to 
creep out of bed. The little angel turned his 
hour-glass, the show was over, and I came 
away very much impressed with that wonder 
of mechanism which has been running and 
regulating itself ever since J 842, and is calcula- 
ted to do this for an unlimited number of years. 
And don^t you think I did right to shut my ears 
and refuse to listen to a young Yankee '*PauI 
Pry,*^ recently from a six months^ sojourn in 
Strassburg, who wished to make me believe 



HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. S9 

there was a man behind performing a la — the 
organ-grinder ! The Alsatian bows were a per- 
petual feast of fun, but as a feast of the palate 
once is often enough for me of the pates de f oie 
gras. 

From Strassburg through the Black Forest 
by rail was a run of 728 miles* We had a 
series of thirty-eight tunnels in succession* The 
very foundation rocks of the earth seem to have 
been blasted and dug through to make this 
admirable road; the round charms of which 
could not be summed up in a Summer day^s 
gossip. 

L* G. C* 

Munich, September 27, J 882. 




LETTER FROM MUNICH, 




JjADEN was perfect in its way, and we 
left reluctantly. We ** did** it quite thor- 
oughly — ^had a six mile drive to the Old Schloss, 
a fine old ruin, on top of a high hill, with beau- 
tiful views of bergs, valleys, and the town. 

Then a visit to the New Schloss, one of the 
residences of the Grand Duke. We were shown 
through some noble apartments, which I ^11 de- 
scribe to you in detail when we meet. We went 
to the Trinkhalle and drank some of the stream- 
ing water. The others made faces, but I did not 
find it unpleasant. Then through the great 
Friedrichsbad, the principal bath-house. I believe 
it furnishes every kind known to science or de- 
sired by either suffering or luxurious humanity. 
And so on. At Strassburg, the Cathedral with 
that wonderful clock ! ** The half has not been 
told,^^ and it does not begin to come up to the 
reality. The way that cock flaps its wings, 
stretches its neck and crows is enough to make 
all created cocks die of envy. At St. Thomas 
Church, with its magnificent monument to Mar- 
shal Saxe; and its most singular chapel, con- 

(60) 



MUNICH. 61 

taming the bodies of the Duke of Nassau 
and his daughter — the former embalmed, the 
latter a slowly crumbling skeleton — both dressed 
in the very clothes they wore ! I cannot imagine 
a more ghastly and singular spectacle than that 
of each lying there in an air-tight coffin, the 
entire top of glass, thus allowing a full view.* 
Yet it was not revolting to me, except as the 
dead were made a spectacle of. I gazed at them 
with an equal fascination and reverence. We 
were much interested in the fortifications, great 
numbers of soldiers and their drilling. 

And we did not fail to indulge in the Strass- 
burg specialty of pates de foie gras. I was re- 
minded of a criticism on a juvenile composition 
of mine by one who knew how not to withhold 
the wholesome truth : ** Its individuality is not 
sufficiently palpable.*' At Constance we held 
our ** Council,** and the reports from Switzerland 
being very unfavorable, decided to put it off to a 
more auspicious season. 

Constance is a most charmingly situated 
and attractive little city. We stayed at the Insel 

* My memory is in a fog, but I think it was beneath this monu- 
ment I had just read these words of comment : ** Baedeker says the 
old gent " — when I was ruthlessly hurried away j and now^ I shall 
never know what Baedeker said. All the same, I feel sure Young 
America was the irreverent commentor. 



62 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

Hotel, the old monastery, in which Huss was 
imprisoned, you know; and I saw the cell in 
which he was confined. It was underground, 
and its walls were washed by the waters of the 
lake, I set my feet on that white spot in the 
slab of the nave of the Cathedral where he stood 
when he was condemned to be burned at the 
stake. You remember it is said to remain dry 
always, even when the rest is wet. Finally, we 
drove to the stone that marks the place where 
he and Jerome suffered that dreadful sentence. 
It is a pile of rocks, all overgrown with ivy and 
other vines, except where slabs show through 
bearing commemorative inscriptions. 

From Constance to Lindau we had an en- 
chanting sail over an emerald sea, with many a 
pretty village gleaming along its shore, ** like a 
white swan on her reedy nest f and then green 
hills, that soon turned into denser clouds, as it 
were, and directly, almost in a flash, the snow- 
covered Alps ! 

Railway from Lindau here; and such a 
succession of pictures! Long, green valleys, 
dotted with picturesque villages; chains of 
wooded knolls; ranges of dark, pine-covered 
mountains, overtopped in places with a vast 
jumble of cones ; snow-covered Alps again, that 



MUNICH, 63 

shone in the sunlight like molten silver I "Words 
avail little toward reproducing such a panorama* 
Only one^s own eyes can do it even the faintest 
justice* I hope you have seen it, or, if not, will 
some day sooTt.f before you grow an old man. 
Have had a long, lazy, inconsequential, just- 
going-anywhere-I-pleased stroll this perfect after- 
noon* The sky is without a fleck; the air crys- 
tal clear ; the sunshine just that happy mingling 
of warmth and bracing quality that makes mere 
animal existence an ecstasy* I could have walked 
to the uttermost ends of the earth in it* The 
streets are wide, clean, admirably paved, hand- 
somely built; fine houses of beautiful designs ki 
a soft, creamy-white stone* Parks, gardens, 
avenues, open squares, trees, flowers, grass, and 
grand monuments are innumerable* I felt as if 
I were under a spell of enchantment* What a 
place to shrink from was ** indoors ! ^* I stayed 
out till the very last moment* 

What a city indeed is this Munchen, the 
capital of ** pretentious little Bavaria I ** Think 
of the days of delight before me in its vast halls 
of art ! I am sure you will, and with an added 
invocation out of your kind heart for whatever 
else may be good for me. L* G* C. 

Munich, September 24, i882. 



MUNCHER 




HIS moment finished the second reading 
^ of yours of 22d» Ah! there are some 
things you don^t have any conception of; for 
instance, you don't know how good it is to get 
a letter from home in a foreign land. I do. 
Oh! Oh! Oh! 

I came in from the opera, Beethoven's ** Fi- 
delio/' in German, in a.** rapt ecstasy/' and, in 
the act of seating myself at our ** after the play 
little supper," I saw your letter lying on my plate. 
I am intuitive; I knew it was from you. I 
picked it up and laid it down with the address 
on the under side. What would ** Goggles" 
say to that? No; he is not a woman; he is 

not Miss S . The French have a proverb 

that runneth in this wise: **La patience c'est la 
genie." K it had been wisdom those keen little 
epigrammatists would not have missed it so. 
However, I do not wish to discourage you in 
the exercise of that passive virtue; rather let it 

** work its good and perfect work." Miss S , 

not ** Goggles," then said: ** Why are you not 

(64) 



MUNCHER (>^ 

going to read your letter; will it keep?*' Of 
course I blushed and hung down my head and 
simpered, and — but youVe seen the process 
many a time. Now, what would you %iivz to 
know how soon I got through with that dainty 
meal, and hurried away to be *^ all alone to my- 
self/' to pore over the letter that confessed to two 
^* love letters *' to another woman. It does not 
need you or anybody else to convince me I am 
the superarchangelic creature I was reported to 
you. I know it myself now 1 See how good 
I am to write at this late hour, not finding it 
possible to put you off to that will-o'-the-wisp 
time, **a, more convenient season." And so 
glad of the love letters; not jealous a bit, be- 
cause they went where I want them to go! 
^^ Don't worry in well doing," ^'effuse," "flow 
like the lava," ** let all the currents of your being 
set that way," and so come into possession of 
that great estate which all the kingdoms of the 
earth cannot match — "a noble woman nobly 
planned." Oh, please, I did not write those 
letters for any one but my sister-in-law. She 
cut them up, and pieced them together again to 
suit them to ** print." After they were published 
she wrote what she had done, begging my for- 
giveness, but making such an appeal in behalf 



66 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

of the paper I not only could not condemn, I 
even had to tell her she might do as she pleased 
with my letters to her, only my name must not 
be knoivn in connection with them. You fairly 
frighten me when you speak of them in the same 

breath with your friends Mr.W and '' E. A/' 

Indeed, I feel timid about writing to you, since 
you have such letters as theirs. Only, we write 
to each other for the simple ** fun of the thing,^*^ 
not giving much heed to anything else, don^t 
we? And, on the whole, I hail from *^OId 
Kaintuck,^' and that doesn^t mean cowardice 
in any direction exactly ! 

I wish you could have been with me in 
Nuremberg — my heart city. You M have seen 
things too — all that I did not see ; and between 
us there would not have been much left behind. 
I am going back there some day — ah! that 
misty future — it may be as the children are cred- 
ited with saying, though I never heard them, 
** before soon,*^ and it may be when I die and 
am resurrected there. This Bavarian soil has 
a curiously homey tread. I can easily see how 
I might linger here, ** maybe for years, maybe 
forever.** So much to do; so many places to go 
to ; so much to see ; such food for thought, im- 
agination, for dolce far niente. You know the 



MUNCHER 67 

kind of pabulum that witching state of existence 
claims^ but who can describe it ? I am tempted 
to give you **2l sample day** out of this wonder 
life in Munich. Do I count egotistically when 
I admit I count on your caring for it, because I 
count on the interest of friendship ? Did I tell 
you to expect and excuse repetitions ? Think 
how many letters I write, and every one wishes 
to hear everything, and I try not to disappoint. 
We are fortunate in pensions. I am on 
Maximilian Platz, and my windows look out 
on, first, the Schiller Monument Platz, an ex- 
quisite memorial platz, all to itself; a semi- 
circle, with a thick half belt of trees for the 
background; in front an oval plat of grass, 
bordered with a bed of flowers, in the center of 
which stands the statue in bronze on a v/hite 
marble pedestal. Just in front of it, grown in 
the grass, is an evergreen wreath; beyond it 
rise, above a thicket of trees in their rich Au- 
tumn tints, the towers of the Wittelsbach Palace, 
the residence of Ludwig (grandfather of the pres- 
ent king) after his abdication, Brienner strasse 
on one side and Maximilian Phiz (a great semi- 
circular street) on the other. By the way, they 
converge, the latter here running into the other, 
and thus making an end of itself, from a spacious 



68 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

boulevard and driveway^ around which are 
blocks of fine edifices in a cream-colored stone* 
Immediately beneath my windows is a small 
triangular platz, a bijou of a beer garden, in 
trees and vines, a gorgeous mosaic of greens, 
golds, browns and scarlets, and bowers and ta- 
bles, and chairs and shaded lamps, the kind that 
make moonlight. 

Well, I begin the day with my breakfast in 
my own apartment, all alone* That^s the cus- 
tom of the country, you know, not my indolence. 
With that spectacle to interest and claim my 
eager eyes, I shall give you day before yesterday. 
At JO a. m. Miss S and I went to the pal- 
ace, which means an entire square composed of 
three immense palaces — the Konigsbau, the 
Alte Resident, or Old Palace, and the Festsaal- 
bau — each occupying one side of the square; 
the fourth being filled up with the Court Chapel 
and Court Theater. The greater part of all 
these is accessible, which makes so much to be 
seen it has to be taken in ** broken doses,^* so zu 
sagen. The Schatzkammer (Treasury) was 
our objective point. We ran the gauntlet of 
soldiers on guard, a spacious court with a hand- 
some fountain, a kind of cloistered stretch with 
a wonderful grotto of shells, a maze of small 



MUNCHER 69 

ante-rooms, till finally, in a state of perfect be- 
wilderment, we were taken in hand by the 
major-domo, who procured our tickets (a little 
ceremony requiring your cards and a silver 
mark), and ushered us into — oh ! Monte Christo, 
the Arabian Nights, that stately pleasure dome 
that Kublai-Khan decreed in Zanadu! We 
wandered through them all. First, through a 
long gallery called the Stammbaum (Genealog- 
ical Tree), containing the portraits of the princes 
and princesses of the house of Wittelsbach. 
The room itself is most attractive in gold, gilt 
and white ornamentation, what space is left from 
the pictures — a collection that any family might 
be proud of* At the end, *^ Open Sesame,** and 
a great door flies back, and we enter. I wish I 
had Ovid^s pen, with which he wrote the de- 
scription of the Palace of the Sun! Such a 
blaze of diamonds and rubies, and pearls and 
emeralds, and all the gems of the earth ! There 
was the Hausdiamant^ a monster brilliant **in 
the Order of the Golden Fleece;** and the Palat- 
inate pearl, half black, half white; strings of 
buttons by the yard of diamonds, a central one 
as large as a silver quarter, encircled by smaller 
ones; breast-plates, as it were, of pear-shaped 
pearls dangling from a mesh of diamonds; 



70 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

crowns of diamonds that had a blinding bril- 
liancy; cabinets filled with vessels made from 
rich stones and inlaid with the most precious 
stones; a copy of Trajan^s Pillar it took the 
goldsmith twenty years to execute; and more 
of such royal belongings than I could get into a 
day's description. 

And one thing not put down in the cata- 
logue: As I was standing transfixed by some 
ornaments in pink rubies and diamonds, over 
my shoulder sounded the tones of a woman's 
voice in American English. You ought to have 
heard the suppressed fervor of my exclamation 
under my breath : ** Oh, you blessed American 
tongue 1 *' I turned to confront a most agreeable 
countrywoman, just as eager as myself for recog- 
nition on that ground alone. I met her again at 
the opera to-night, and we had another chat. I 
think her husband is an artist, as they live in 
Florence, and he told me he had been over here 
sixteen or seventeen years, and was ^* longing 
to get back home.'' On leaving the palace. 

Miss S came home ; but I was n't half ready 

for indoors — never am except at meal-times and 
bed-time I So I wandered around the streets in 
the sunshine, looking in the shop windows and 
picking up a picture here and there — among 




The Old Kaiser at Historical "Window. 



MUNCHEN. 71 

them that of the **Vier Konige/* as the old 
Kaiser calls it, himself holding his baby great- 
grandson with as proud an air as if it was his 
own first-born son, with his son and grandson 
on either side* Four living generations in the 
same picture is indeed a spectacle to be made a 
note of* 

Another picture was that including the em- 
press, crown princess, and the young mother 
herself holding her little king. It is a picture 
beaming with both pride and happiness. That 
must have been one of Iife*s happy moments — 
one of the few supreme flashes of earthly felicity. 
And on compulsion — dinner, always in Germany 
a mid-day meal. I am a true Bohemian now; 
but I was a housekeeper once, and I don^t like 
to derange the order of a household, so I am al- 
ways ^* on time.^^ After dinner, out again by 

myself, Miss S having a German lesson. 

First, a call at a book-store for a variety of Mu- 
nich gossip. The proprietor is a handsome 
young man — cultivated, traveled, of good fam- 
ily — his father being a captain in the army, and 
a very genial, well-mannered person. I drop in 
on him quite often. He has been all over the 
United States, even to Cincinnati. I did not ask 
him about W ! As I sauntered out — I do 



72 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

everything just as the whim takes me — I thought 
l*d have a droschke drive^ so I hailed one and 
stepped in. Oh ! the earth, air and sky of these 
Munich days 1 A whole week of them, too, of 
that kind that makes one exclaim, ** Mere exist- 
ence is a luxury/* 

After awhile I dismissed it at the door of 
the Kaulhach Gallery. It is not a large one, 
only a large room, as full as it can hold of the 
sketches and a few pictures of that popular Mu- 
nich artist* It is on a retired street; a very 
pretty, tasteful building in a garden* A few, 
from one to three or four persons at a time, were 
coming and going the hour and a half I loitered. 
I am not going to bore you or any one with a 
catalogue or description of pictures, but one was 
so beautiful and touching I want you to look at 
it a moment through the lens of my — pen. A 
city still in the shadow of the night; gleams of 
dawn in the east; just floating up into the clear, 
higher air an angel clasping a little child in its 
arms, with only the words ** Zu Gott f* such a 
common idea, so simply wrought out, but I could 
not get away from it. 

The sketches were intensely interesting. 
Some were outlines with pencil or pen; others 



MUNCHEN. 73 

quite fully worked out, of nearly all his great 
masterpieces* 

The cunning of his good right hand seemed 
never to have been at a loss. His portrait, 
painted by himself, stood on an easel, with three 
fadeless chaplets placed upon it by that loving 
homage which honors alike those who give and 
those who receive* 

Out again and on again, turning my feet 
obstinately from the ** home stretch.'^ Several 
squares took me to the ** English Garden,*' 
founded by Count Rumford, our uneuphonious 
** Mr. Thompson.** Acres of greenery in drives, 
walks, bowers, lakes, streams, etc., right on the 
edge of the city. Like Kane and the Polar Sea, 
I stood on the brink but did n*t jump in. I did 
not quite like strolling in its shady depths by 
myself. I had driven through, and the knowl- 
edge which neutralizes temptation might have 
had as much influence to the abstinence as the 
discretion. No bringing myself to the self-appli- 
cation of the word cowardice ! Besides, there 
was counter-attraction somewhere within sev- 
eral squares which I had not seen, Ludwig- 
kirche, with its altar painting, ** The Last Judg- 
ment,** the largest oil painting in the world, 
sixty-three feet high and thirty-nine feet broad* 



74 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

Did you know that ? I did n*t till the guide-hook 
told me. You are welcome to my hard-earned 
information. I wish I had time to say some- 
thing I want to just ** in this connection.** Hm ! 
I haven^t; I must hurry on. Of course^ the 
painting is a masterpiece of art. Is n*t that the 
conventional expression that slips so ^* trip- 
pingly** from the half -fledged tourist? Among 
the spirits of the blessed is that of King Ludwig, 
crowned with laurels, attained presumably after 
his separation from Lola; also that of Dante, 
the poet of heaven and hell, in a red garment; 
and of Fra Angelico, the painter of Paradise, in 
the Dominican robe. I did not give a close in- 
spection to the spirits of the other order* Ves- 
per service was in progress, and I sat and 
watched the devout at their aves and pater- 
nosters, a scene in its way food for rather pain- 
ful meditation. Such mechanical worship ; such 
slavish superstition! Descending the entrance 
steps as I left the church, I was struck by their 
worn appearance. The daily tread of the mul- 
titudes of worshipers has left them almost un- 
safe. Then I lagged along Ludwig Strasse, the 
fine street entirely originated by that same King 
Ludwig who had public spirit and energy enough 
to hide a multitude of faults. 



MUNCHEN. 75 

The sun was leaving me so fast I had to turn 
homeward, which I did as reluctantly as you turn 
back from some of your long tramps, I suspect. 
Is n't a Munich day a rather fascinating span of 
life? I match the above day by day. Do you 
know what a large city it is — 230,000 popula- 
tion ? And how grand and clean and comfort- 
able? I am wishing I could transport it to the 
United States for myself and my elect ones to 
dwell in ! For oh ! such bread and butter and 
coffee as abound! There! the weakness for 
creature comfort will not be thrust aside ! 

Don't you want to know what neighbors I 
have ? A banker at the end of this etage, a wid- 
ower with a cherub of a child, and in the next suite 
of apartments to mine — a baron ! Such a splen- 
did-looking man ! If he had only come sooner — 
you know the adage about propinquity — before 
I had quite lost my heart I I couldn't help it* I 
was taken ^*so unawares" — not in the least 
dreaming what would be the issue— when I 
could not wrest my gaze from that superb crea- 
ture in such brilliant array. Don't tell on me! 
A Prussian officer ! His uniform is the acme of 
taste, gorgeousness and becomingness ; his off- 
duty saunter on the street the ultimatum of grace ; 
his easy, dignified, unconscious bearing the per- 



76 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

fection of deportment. He never stares at one. 
It was the merest accident that our eyes met, and 
the damage was done. Our glances got tangled 
in each other, and the more we struggled the 
more hopeless the knot. His name? You prom- 
ise not to betray this weakness — but could I be 
a true American woman and come abroad and 
not lose my heart? His name is Legion; for I 
can't tell them apart any more than I can help 
adoring them all — the graceful, gracious, gor- 
geous beings of gold and plumes and cockades 
and pompons, and altogether such uniforms! 
For what else were they made, indeed? See 
how I take you into my confidence ? And now 
then, father confessor, having made a clean 
breast of it, I shall betake myself to my couch, 
in the words of ** Goggles,*' to ** sleep the sleep 
of youth, innocence and beauty/* Did you say 
you were going to write fortnightly or weekly ? 

The first will be best. 

L. G. C. 

Munchen, October 23, 1882. 





MUNICH. 



AY, how many copies have you of those 

foaming sheets you sent me from M 

for a letter ? And to how many other addresses 
have they been sent ? I am curious to know* 
They were never evoked by me — of that I am 
sure* Nor do I attribute their existence to the 
overwhelming influence of any other special fem- 
inine divinity; rather to one of those supreme 
intervals — his satanic majesty's own — ^when 

"The d — 1 finds for idle hands 
Some mischief still to do." 

You were alone; you were **in a state of 
mind;** you 

"Sat in revery and watched 
The changing colors of the waves that broke 
Upon the idle seashore of the mind." 

You summoned up ^* spirits of that vasty 
deep, red, white and blue;" the flimsy creatures, 
what were they but shades of all your divinities, 
the slim maidens of your boyhood, the stately 
goddesses of your cavalier period, ^^the pretty 
widows ** of your ** old bachelor ** era ? ** And so 

(77) 



78 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

with the prodding of that flock of shadows and 
the impulse of your besetting iniquity you wrote 
that sample letter — good for one, good for all ? 
I can see the whole performance. Thankee, sir; 
I am not to be mistaken for one of that throng. 
There is nothing gregarious about me. Just 
leave me out when you give your *Mree lunch*' 
feasts of sauce and sugar-plums I You — 

But I enjoyed the composition **all the 
same.** What a pity you have never taken to 
novel writing. This letter — I can*t call it mine, 
you see, because it belongs to all of them — ah ! 
this letter ** shows your hand.** Believe me, 
you *ve missed your field in literature. Are you 
too old to begin over? I ask this because I am 
beginning to have misgivings in the face of my 
old sturdy belief that one never outgrew the 
ability to do if only the will were not wanting. 
I — ^I — how shall I admit it? I find there are 
things I can*t do. Of course it is because one 
grows old, even with the best intentions not to. 
No, I never want to; and here I am minus the 
roses of other days and plus wrinkles and gray 
hairs beyond all calculation, and seriously con- 
templating a mouthful of false teeth. Sigh for 
me ! Was ever anything so lamentable ? I am 
so glad you told me about your evening with 



MUNICH. 79 

my dear friends, the F s. How plain you 

made me see the familiar room. It was good 
of you all to remember me so. They are of 
earth^s choicest— so high-souled, so loyal, so 
good. I have yet to see the man who does not 

do homage to Mrs. F , and the Doctor is one 

I delight to love and honor. I hope you met my 

other friend, Mr. W , of whom I dreamed 

last night. I was talking to you, and used this 
expression: ^*A11 the wrong he has ever done 
in his life — all and the only — is to have always 
done the right.*^ When I awoke I remembered 
it. How long I have known him — nearly from 
the beginning — ^away back yonder when I was 
a wee thing in pinafores. He said so pleasantly 
of that long acquaintance : ** The first time I saw 
her she was so high*' (meaning the midget I 
was) **and swinging in an apple tree; and she 
swung into my heart, and has been swinging 
there ever since.*' Are not those the kind of 
words ** for remembrance ? *' How good he has 
been to me. Some day I *11 make your heart 
throb, as these human hearts of ours are quick 
to do, hearing of the great and noble of earth, 
telling of all he has been to me and done for me 
in this life of mine, that has been more sorrow 
and heartache, you know, than comes to many. 



80 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

n you could know him as I do — ^I think, no — 
I know you would appreciate my affection and 
reverence. His life has been a constant growth, 
grace overcoming nature, the lower giving way 
to the higher, conquest upon conquest, till I al- 
most tremble at that nearness to perfection which 
means fitness for that better Elsewhere, the ulti- 
matum of all our hopes and dreams. Here arc 
words of a man about him : ** Is n^t his the ten- 
derest, the lovingest, the gentlest, the purest, the 
whitest and best soul God ever gave to man ? ** 
Did ever you know any man speak so of an- 
other ? Think what mine will be when I give 
them leave. Do you observe that I speak to 
you with perfect freedom, having no fear to ex- 
press my enthusiasm ? It is because / kno<w you 
will not transmute the pure gold of such a friend- 
ship into any drosser metal. Ah ! I shall indeed 
be disappointed if you do not meet him. You 
should call on his wife. You would find her 
very companionable. You remember her that 
rainy noon call, I am sure. 

Dear old M ! It is looking its best for 

you, is it ? Its best cannot be easily surpassed. 
Those beautiful hills that I seem to have climbed 
and scrambled over almost as soon as I learned 
to walk I How it thrilled me to read your words 



MUNICH. 81 

about them ! Ah ! you cannot know how they 
look to my eyes, that always see them in a two- 
fold light — that of my vanished past as well as 
the present ! My husband and I were always 
sweethearts. I do not clearly remember any- 
thing farther back than my love for him* He 
used to bring me the wild flowers that grew all 
over them; and we have climbed them together 
many a time and gazed at their beauty together, 
and planned the future that lay ahead of us in. 
that wonderful sheen and glow that is visible 
only to such untried and happy beings. Dear 
hills ! beautiful hills ! sacred hills ! Yes, I know 
them in their length and breadth, from their high 
crests almost to their foundation stones. Did 
you know I was a grangeress before we met ? 
Well, I had that kind of possession of them also. 
From the top of mine, I cot<^^ stand by a tall, 
bare trunk — torso, may I say ? — of a monarch 
in its time, and look westward over the range, 

including Water-works Hill, to Mr. W ^'s. I 

and my dog did it often ; sometimes in the dewy 
mornings ; sometimes the sunny noons ; some- 
times in the long, tranquil slants of the setting 
sun. Oh! I know those hills, every foot of 
them, at all hours of the day, in every light, 
under every shadow, from their oaks and beeches 



82 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

down to their bramble thickets; every wild 
flower, every noxious weed, petrifactions, peb- 
bles ! What have they that is not a part of my 
very being ? Do you wonder I love them ? 

I wish some one had had a long enough 
memory to show you where I was born, not 
because of that unimportant event, but because 
you can see even now what an exquisite spot it 
must have been. It is ** the point ** where Lime- 
stone Creek runs into the Ohio. I am always 
thankful I was bom on the banks of a river and 
in the shadow of the ** everlasting hills.*' We 
were playfellows, as it were. The shells I have 
scraped together; the sand hills I have heaped 
up; the stolen wades in the edge of the water; 
the skiff rows ; the fishing with pin-hooks and 
worm-bait! Ah! my beautiful river; that you 
want to spoil to me by crossing against my wish ! 
Is it you who are so ** cruel ? ** E you are still 

in M , ask Dr. F to show you *'the 

little house where I was born.** It was my 
grandfather's, and my father's is near by. Make 
some excuse, you two, to get a walk all about 
them, just to see the views. You will thank me 
for it, I know. 

Why did you not tell me who that ** exu- 
berant set " was ? Give me the names. There 



MUNICH, 83 

is no curiosity about me, you see. As for 
that counterpart, I don't like to feel there is an- 
other so like me* I cannot imagine who she 
could have been* Next time don't let her escape 
you. Clutch her with, if need be, that fierce 
brigand salutation adapted ** Your name or your 
life/' There has been an annoying individual 
of that kind here. She even had the exasper- 
ating presumption to have not only my initials, 
but my name. Think of another '^ Mrs. Laura 
Collins " roving around Europe, and getting your 
letters and opening them. Do you think it was 
any satisfaction to read her indorsement, ** opened 
but not read by Mrs. Laura Collins." The only 
thing that reconciled me was that she was ** Mrs. 
G. L. C," instead of *'L. G. C." I am glad she 
has flown **to other parts," and hope we shall 
not clash again. But wasn't it aggravating? 
I did not have any mail for two weeks on ac- 
count of her getting and keeping it. That 
** Bayerische Vereinsbank," and I let her have 
**a piece of our mind," I can tell you, about it. 
Don't be vicious about my ** Bavarian officer." 
That special one I have not seen again, though 
I **own up" to an eager scanning of every one 
I meet. To be sure, I have not the least idea I 
should know him, but I can't keep from looking 



84 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

for him. It was such a peculiar experience, that 
rencontre. Think of having to lift your eyes to 
look at one exactly as if in answer to a call, in 
spite of yourself, and being overcome in the 
same instant by an utter helplessness to look 
away, while you became conscious that each 
was ** slowing up in passing,*^ for you know not 
what might happen next. It was terrifying too, 
because I am sure he felt as I did, that nothing 
ought to happen, except that each should keep 
straight on. We did somehow manage to. But 
you see I can*t keep from telling you everything — 
after a few rods — I could not help it — I looked 
after him ! not, however, without some feminine 
craftiness. I made believe I was attracted by a 
pretty shop window. Oh — h — h — h I 

He, too, standing transfixed in the street, 
was looking back. Then 'was a shock ! Then 
how each hurried away! I plunged into the 
shop, and quite bewildered the clerk with various 
wants. I simply did not know what I was ask- 
ing for. And he! Ah! what has become of 
him? Alas! I know I shall never see him 
again! And also, I know equally well — ^and 
this is the saddest of it — I should not know him 
if I did! Could any one be more harmless ? 

My charming Munich is showing its kinship 



MUNICH. ^5 

to the Alps. The snow is falling fine, thick and 
fast. I am not quite delighted, because I do not 
like the ** beautiful snow.'* I meant to have had 
one whole year of summer time, getting to Italy 

before cold weather. But Miss B 's sickness 

changed my arrangements. The party I joined 
were to winter here for study. Now it will be 
January or February before we see that ** sunny 
clime.*' Still, I am told by those who have been 
there that February, March and April are the 
months for it. I want to see it only under the 
most favorable circumstances, so am content to 
wait. To-night we are to attend a concert of 
the choicest music, given by some of Germany's 
finest musicians. We have had two seasons of 
opera already. I don't know how many more 
we are to have. Booth is to be here by and by, 
and "we mean to give him a welcome indeed ! 
As for chronicling all I am doing, I can't think of 
wearying you to that extent. But be sure I have 
no idle days. They are all as full as they can 
hold. They will do to talk about in that won- 
derful **by and by" we have laid out in the 
future. I am sure there are some points in your 
letter I have not taken up; but I dare not take 
them up now, lest such length of letter frighten 
you into breaking off the correspondence. So 



86 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

much valuable time as the reading exacts — 
how can you spare it? Besides, those points 
will keep ! 

I shall expect a full and true and most mi- 
nute report of your entire visit* Don^t keep an 
item back. It will be ever so mean if you did 
not write that **next Sunday/^ Won't you be 
glad you did, if you did, when you read this ? But 
indeed and indeed, I am very grateful for your 
letters, and am your friend to my finger tips, 

L. G. C» 

Munich, November J8, 1882. 





MUNICH. 



OUR second Sunday letter Just received 
and read ** twice over/^ You can't realize 
the pleasure it gives me. No woman is material 
for a full-blooded Bohemian. Giving myself, as 
I am trying to do, wholly up to this life, few 
would believe what a homesick heart is nearly 
all the time beating beneath my vivacious words 
— a heart sick for the home broken up forever; 
for the dear ones that will meet me no more on 
any threshold this side the grave. Think how 
I must feel, reading your words about my lost 
home — how they take me back to it. I shall 
never see it again. I could not bear it. Yet I 
am very grateful to you for thinking to tell me 
about it ; the beautiful tree ; the kindly intention 
to send me a leaf; the plan to see it again. May 
I tell you such thoughtfulness has the tenderness 
of a woman in it ? My mother would have done 
the same. Thank you for it. And believe me, 
my heart has never before so accepted you as a 
friend. It is very gratifying to me to know that 
you are so delighted with M . I have always 

(87) 



88 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

thought it one of the most beautiful, picturesque 
bits of earth my eyes have ever seen. 

Did I not write that Heidelberg, so famous 
in song and story and guide-books for its scenery, 
reminds me of it ? It is fortunate you are such 
a walker and climber. No one who is not can 
know the beauty of this little planet. Be sure 

to go over all Mr. W ^s hill, or, rather, his 

chain. I think you will say it is unequaled, or 
almost so. If you could only have him for a 
companion, he would show you many points we 
have enjoyed so many times, morning, noon, and 
night. There is a moonrise view that would 
make you speechless with ecstasy. He found it 
out for the rest of us. One special hillside is full 
of wild flowers in the later springtime, where in 
the earlier spring he has a charming little sugar- 
camp. We have had such frolics and picnics 
in the sugar-making season ! Be sure to find 
** Maple Point,** and the oak tree with the gnarled 
roots, where we sat to gaze and talk. You can 
see away across the river there, even to the home 
of your friends. 

We had quite a snowfall on Saturday. 
Sunday was a day of steady cold. It and to-day 
were one of the innumerable church feasts — ^the 
anniversary of the founding of the order of St. 



MUNICH. 89 

Elizabeth. You know the story — her great 
charitableness and her husband's ojjposition; 
how he caught her going out with a basket of 
food and commanded her to uncover it; and lol 
when she obeyed, the contents had been changed 
into flowers — ^to meet the emergency ! Well, the 
royal family here, the ladies only, belong to this 
order, and enter into the celebration with great 
ardor. The first day, the service is a brilliant 
one, the princesses in fine carriage toilettes, with 
their gilt and crimson prie-dieu and seats, on 
magnificent rugs, the priests in splendid vest- 
ments, the royal usher in blue and silver, and 
another gorgeous attendant in scarlet and gold. 
The service is for the living* The royal dames 
givQ alms. The service to-day was for the dead, 
with a total change of programme; the church 
draped in mourning, the princesses and their 
seats and desks, the priests, and a grand cata- 
falque. This was lighted by innumerable tall 
wax candles, in tall silver candlesticks. The 
music was low and solemn; the people subdued 
and sympathetic. I was much interested in the 
spectacle. Besides, I had such close and satis- 
factory views of royalty I And, let me tell you, 
royalty looked at me with quite as much curiosity 
as I looked at them. One of the princesses is a 



90 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

daughter of the Emperor of Austria. You know 
the empress is said to be the most beautiful 
woman on a European throne. She was a Ba- 
varian princess, and her portraits here justify- 
that verdict. This daughter of hers, the wife 
of a Bavarian prince, cousin to the king, is a 
tall, elegant-looking creature, one of the most so 
I have ever seen, with pretty brown eyes, sunny 
light brown hair and fine complexion. Her 
mouth and nose spoil her for a beauty. She 
looks happy and good. The king likes her, 
and sometimes invites her to dine with him, 
without including her husband! Don^t think 
there is any scandal ; this is simply one of his 
eccentricities. He may be mad, he is queer, but 
his reputation is as spotless as a woman's. Poor 
king ! You know it was a love affair that upset 
him. You don't know how my sympathies are 
enlisted in his behaH. And he really seems just 
to miss being a grand being. The concert was 
a wild German enthusiasm. The handsome 
tenor — tenors are always handsome — ^*nicht 
war?*' — sang twelve songs, so clamorous was 
the audience; and he looked like — ^* Goggles," 
only '* Goggles " is even handsomer. 

Oh ! I have so much to tell you ; but yes- 
terday and to-day in the cold, damp church — ^no 




Loois II, the Mad King of Bavaria. 



MUNICH. 9 J 

fire or heat even — have given me a dreadful 
cold, and I must stop and cosset myself and try 
to get rid of it. Thank you for your liberality 
about my religion. You are right in your sus- 
picion. Even my good friend Dr. F calls 

me ** heterodox.*' Indeed, I believe my only re- 
ligion is, that the life be right and then the soul 
cannot be false. 

J_*. \Ut \j* 

Mtmich, November 20, J882. 




MUNICH. 






OU couldn't do it again!*' I never 
^^ repeat myself. It would indeed lower 
my ** crest of haught *^ to find such barrenness or 
stinginess of entertaining powers as that shows. 
** Madam, there be those more gifted who make 
a point of repetition; it is set quite above your 
contempt/* will you say ? Do not I know that ? 
I can quote you the prettiest kink in rhyme 
**o* that side of the question.*' Listen: 

** That 's your wise thmsh ; he sings his song twice over» 
Lest you should think he never could recapture 
That first, wild, passionate rapture." 

And I could show you in the daintiest script 
where one **not all unknown to fame/* a latter- 
day writer of much popularity, as I have seen 
stated, raves and raves again over ** the sweet 
widows/* Such things stare me in the face and 
might silence me, so potent is the force of exam- 
ple. But was ever woman made so meek and 
yet so set in her own way ? Even your taunt does 
not goad me to a second letter of ** the altogethery ** 
type. I — I think indeed I only wish to show you 

(92) 



MUNICH. 93 

I know the trick of that style without the help of 
wine or whisky. Pitiable pair, your Byron and 
Sheridan ! Please, sir, you insist upon my style 
so much, you wonder more and more where I 
picked it up* I am urged to ask, is it all style 
and no sense? I am sure I told you once I 
picked it up where I picked up my brains. I 
don't see why you do not accept that statement. 
You will never get nearer the truth, will you? 

** True it is, and pity 't is *t is tme.** 

I re-read the passage at once, and it reads 
just as I wrote you — "in,'* not ** within.*' I 
reckon you'll have to come down, **Capting 
Scott;" not I ** cushion my claws." But a vic- 
tory is twice a victory when the victor is gener- 
ous. I shall not sing peans over your "alto- 
getheriness." ^* Poetical justice" is divine when 
it is on the right side of the river. 

How you linger in the land of enchantment ! 
Who would not under the same witchery ? ** The 
divine weather " and Hood will help us out — 

**0h 1 there *s nothing in life like making love. 
Save making hay in fine weather,'* 

It is always violent when the attack comes 
late in life — like whooping cough, measles, etc. 
But I'd by all odds rather have it then than 



94 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

not at all. The life that misses that delicious 
frenzy is a failure. Yes, I see you like the Indian 
summer. Just a sentence about it from your 
sympathetic pen, and you make picture days 
float before inward eyes. The languid, indolent, 
dreamy lapse of the autumnal sunshine; the 
ground beneath the walnut trees black with 
fallen nuts — ^I can hear them dropping from the 
branches, and the excited barking of the pretty 
gray squirrel; ^' clear, running brooks,^' their 
babble somewhat deadened by their ** freighted 
argosies '* of dead leaves ; flecks of grass here and 
there, green as that of early summer; misty 
distances, half blue, half gold; purplish shadows 
where the sun does not strike ; flocks and herds 
browsing as if they too were more than half 
dreaming; farm-houses dotting the landscape, 
with their great orchards near by — oh ! the heaps 
and heaps of '* golden pippins,^* '* rosy-cheeked 
bellflowers,^* ** Rome beauties,'^ *' tawny russets,'^ 
and so on; and the cider-press, with its running 
stream, and the hig bucketfuls carried to the 
house; and the sheets of ^* piping hot'* ginger- 
bread waiting for them ! 

Yes, that is what you make me see. And 
maybe one's sweetheart made it while he was 
fetching the cider ! Be sure they will eat and 



MUNICH. 95 

drink together ! Don't you see their eyes foam- 
ing over with felicity? Bless me! I shouldn't 
wonder if you were the very fellow* Napoleon 
knew all about that sort of bliss : ** The hap- 
piest hours of my life were those I spent eating 
cherries ^th my little sweetheart when I was 
a boy/' 

Shouldn't wonder if they had a frolic shoot- 
ing the seeds, should you ? It used to be a farm, 
that place ** on the Ohio side " you took in with 
the ** Germantown view." Perhaps that's where 
you got your ** Indian Summer of life" taste! 

When your gaze went wandering and 
** lingering lovingly" in that direction, did. it 
light on the two mounds that giv^. their own 
interest to 

** That vale of Aberdeen, 
The vale of gold and green?" 

There's a distich of Mr. W — 's for you — I hope 
so. Were you alone ? or accompanied by ** an 
exuberant set," I wonder. Surely, either way, 
some one must have told you of the mounds. 
Perhaps your ** most pretentious " prattler would 
have told you they were antediluvian as well as 
anti-historic. It is plain she would have given 
some astonishing turn to the crank of knowledge. 
And had your exclamatory friend been present 



H BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

he might have added to the hilarity of the occa- 
sion with some such remark as — I have had so 
many interruptions, that flash of brilliancy has 
escaped me. Please put it in for me. You can 
do that, though you begged off on the cat. Yet 
you knew ! You 6hA not fool me a bit with that 
pretense of worrying all night. In fact, if you 
only remember that I am on the shady side — 
almost shaky — of the autumn of life, the ** In- 
dian Summer*' which you enjoy, you will for- 
bear any attempt in that direction. How gently 
you put it — "You'll know about it one of 
these days,*' just as if I did n't already know. 
Some "antique gems" are afraid of their 
antiquity: others are worldly-wise enough to 
know it is that which gives them their value : 
while a rare few shine resplendent in that gra- 
cious acceptance of the course of nature, which 
takes captive " Old Father Time," and converts 
the awful conqueror into the loyalest henchman. 
I at least feel no shame of my plus half-century 
of years. Though, maybe, my counter weak- 
ness is the hope of growing into one of that 
"rare few," the beautiful "old ladies" I have 
known, and loved, and revered, and been made 
a little friend of when I was young! Their 
memory is one of my richest treasures. And 



MUNICH. 97 

now that their crown of years is hovering over 
my own head, may I prove worthy to wear it. 
Was n^t I right when I said, ** all such gravi- 
tate to you as apples and cannon-balls to the 
ground ? '^ I might have said, more simply, as 
**the sweet widows** gravitate to you, only I 
didn't think of that in time. It was the happier 
** afterthought.** See how you are attracting all 
the most felicitous marvels of speech and gossip 
garnered in the memories of the experienced; 
now rising to the surface and exploding like 
bubbles in the froth of talk; now bobbing here 
and there like cork in the current, as light and 
imperishable! What store you will have for 
illustrations in some future **Noctes Ambro- 
sione j ** That singular death-bed speech I heard 
of by accident. The person was not a friend; 
I just knew her, though she was connected by 
marriage with connections of mine in the same 
way. It seems to me she died years ago, though 
I do not know. Who was ^Hhe clergyman*s** 
wife that told you ? Why are all your friends left 
unnamed? Haven*t they been christened yet? 
It seems the strangest thing that you should have 
got hold of that speech ! The mere fact haunts 

me. Was Mrs. M the divine musician? 

Front street west of Sutton runs so far — way 



98 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

down around the point, where you 'II lose sight 
of the old city, ** with its dozens and dozens of 
agreeable people/* I can't go prying into every 
house all that way to find out who she was. 
Please hereafter mention names. 

I never read your side-splitting ** French book/' 
** Petty Annoyances/' but I'll get it to-day if I can. 
I have read some of that ** bad fellow's " books for 
the French some years ago. Since I have been 
here I have been reading Souvestre and Sainte- 
Beuve. I always liked the former. His was a 
noble soul, and I am sure he never wrote a word 
that he repented of on that too early death-bed. 
Did you ever read his **Au Coin du Feu/' a col- 
lection of stories ? It shows his sweet, good, wise 
spirit. You must have read his **Attic Philoso- 
pher." It had a great run, I remember — how 
many years ago ? Sainte-Beuve I feel sure you 
know. I enjoy his incisiveness and his (on the 
whole) impartial criticisms. But I am ''over 
head and ears " in Dutch reading : am now deep 
in the '* Nibelungenlied." Having seen the 
Nibelungenlied suite of rooms in the king's 
palace, I wished to read the story in the original. 
I had read it in English ''ever so long ago" — 
long enough for the mists of memory to have 
made a blur over some of the details. I sat up 



MUNICH. 99 

till midnight reading it — could n*t stop, though 
knowing I should. It cannot need other evidence 
of its fascination. The frescoes at the palace no 
doubt added to the interest. They are haunt- 
ingly wonderful and beautiful. Even the ex- 
traordinary chanting of the story of each by the 
stolid guide could not spoil the impression. E 
ever I have a chance, FII favor you with a speci- 
men of his performance. Alas ! that I shall not 
have the cut and tinsel of his royal livery ! How I 
wish you could see all the treasures of this ** king's 
palaces.'' They have been gathered from a range 
of time reaching as far back as his ancestral line, 
to n 80. I doubt if any other royal line can quite 
equal it in many things. And the opinion is not 
held in the interest of my Bavarian blood either. 
Now, tell me quick about **the last from 

B ." Don't keep me waiting. ^* Dogs and 

children cannot bear suspense," and I am just 
like 'em. And when are you going to tell me all 
about the sweet detaining cause? I am a para- 
gon of a confidante. Try me. I shan't tell it to 
one, and then she can't tell it to two. And so 
A. P. R. will have nothing to rue. Impromptu 
sparkle ! Catch it and preserve it under glass. 

L. G. C. 

Munich, December J2, 1882. 




MUNICH, 



]UST see what your last letter has done. 
You wished my '^ counterfeit present- 
ment/^ Here it is. Will you be pleased with 
it, I wonder ? 

Had you called on Mrs. W , as you 

should have done, you*d have seen a life-size 

crayon copy of ^* that same/^ which Mrs, W 

had done in Washington. It is considered a su- 
perb picture and a perfect copy, which makes it 
a matter of inferior moment if it is no particular 
likeness. It was very well for Cromwell to in- 
sist, ** Paint me as I am;'' but for a woman, if 
the beauty is there, paint her as she is ; if not, 
paint her as she should be. 

The photographs I have rejected, destroyed 
or hid away from sight forever, because of the 
lack of this essential! This Munchen artist 
kept coaxing : ** Look brighter ;'' '* smile f* **don*t 
look so sad;'' '*you look as if you had not a 
friend in the world ;" till I tried my best. ** There, 
that is good;" ^^that will do;" ^* now "—and he 
"turned the sun on." All the same, I am not 

(JOO) 



MUNICH. m 

a picture woman, and I know it ** Why, bless 
you I of course you don^t make a good photo- 
graph/' 

** Don't you know why ? '' said a friend in 
Philadelphia a few years ago, ere the brown was 
silver and the roses had faded; **l can tell you/' 
I looked an eager inquiry. ** When you sit for 
a picture your face is discharged of all expres- 
sion, and the glow of the roses can't be shown 
in black and white/' But wasn't he a com- 
forter ! 

Yes, the home of my childhood, but not 
the house in which I was born, is gone. I was 
born in the large old-fashioned house nearest the 

mill. I think it is now occupied by a Mr. L , 

You must have noticed it. It is a pleasant-look- 
ing place even now ; spoiled as all the Point is 
by those later houses. When we lived there the 
houses of my father and grandfather were the 
only ones for perhaps a quarter of a mile. There 
were, maybe, a do^en houses in ** Newtown," 
as it was called then. There was no street ex- 
cept on the river bank in front of our places. 
The front yards of both were full of grass, plants, 
flowers and shrubbery. My mother had so many 
roses, ours was called ** The Place of Roses." 
Each had large gardens and meadows and or- 



J02 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

chards. Some of the pear trees are living and 
flourishing now, over a hundred years old I 

I thought seriously of buying the place of 
my grandfather when I sold my other one; went 
and looked at it several times, but I was too alone 
to attempt another home. Now I am sure it 
was best I did not. You can comprehend how 
it made my heart ache to hear of that fire. I 
have not been in the house for years ; I think not 
since my father moved into Maysville, and in 
all probability would never have been again, but 
the pain is inevitable. 

I have found and read **Les Petites Miseres 
de la vie Confugale.** Psha ! Don*t you believe 
him — ^that ruthless anatomist. I believe I could 
forgive him if he had not made these *' Annoy- 
ances '* so life-like and comical. I laughed even 
when I was ** boiling over with rage** at his 
revelations. Wish I was not so indolent; Pd 
write a counter-statement if I were not ! I could, 
and it would be the God*s truth, just as his is the 
deviFs truth. But for one thing I *d set you to 
do that ** spiriting.** So unfortunately you lack 
experience! But why could n*t you, any way, 
just as well as '*Ike Marvel** wrote *' Dream 
Life ?** Did you ever read ** the Pendant ** to '' Les 
Petites Miseres, Les Menages d*une femme ver- 



MUNICH* 103 

tuense ? *' I got it at the same time, and found 
it intensely interesting as a picture of French 
character and life. But I must not get on to 
books, or I shall write all night. 

Do you know Christmas is coming ? It is 
so near it takes my breath away to think of it. 
This is Friday night — and Monday ! FII catch 
you anyhow, ** My Christmas Gift.*^ Is n't that 
the way you shouted it as you tiptoed round in 
the early dawn of Christmas morning, when 
you were a boy? And hadn't you already 
hung up your little sock the night before, know- 
ing you would find it stuffed full of ** goodies 
and things ? *' I had a young bachelor friend in 

C , "a fellow of infinite jest,** and much 

curious and quaint humor. He was alone at 
home, so I sent for him to dine with us. 

** What did you do last night, John ? Were 
you not lonesome? Why did you not come 
round ? ** 

**OhI I read awhile! Then I ate apples 
and nuts. It was lots of fun to roast the apples 
and hear them sizzle and sputter and burst, to 
say nothing of the eating and burnt fingers. 
And you never saw *a stoker* (I think that 
was the word) beat me at keeping up a fire with 



J04 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

my nut-shells* When I got tired, I hung up my 
sock and went to bed/* 

Will you do the like? I hope you will 
have **the goodies and things/* whether you do 
or not. Yes, I hope you will have the very best 
Christmas of all your life* It is to be very 
** gay and festive ** here, and I shall see many 
novel and magnificent sights* Maybe FU tell 
you about some of them. 

A merry Christmas ! A happy Christmas ! 
The best Christmas of all your life ! 

L. G. C. 

Municli, December 22, 1882. 




MUNICH, 



ra 



LL the world has been at its busiest 
getting ready for Christmas, and the 
amount of knitting and embroidery is over- 
whelming* I pity eyes. Even the blind do 
the most wonderful knitting. I was at the 
Blind Asylum not long ago* There were 
drawers and drawers full of tidies, caps, stock- 
ings, drawers, etc. Some of their customs are 
rather startling just now. Sunday is never 
very different from other days, except in the 
church services. The shops are kept open till 
late in the afternoon. All the world goes to 
church, and then to the military parade, and to 
hear the band play in one of the public squares, 
and then to shop ! At home, the afternoons and 
evenings are spent in fancywork of whatever 
kind may be on hand, or in games or dancing. 
The last three weeks, our young ladies have 
embroidered indefatigably all Sunday, except 
when at church or shopping. I am sure I don^t 
like this custom; but Christmas is a grand festi- 
val in Germany, you know, and I suppose it 

(105) 



106 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

would be heart-breaking not to make the most 
ample preparations. The last two days, cooking 
has been the duty of the frau-mother. She pre- 
pares all her cake, but sends to a regular baker 
to have the baking done. You ought to have 
seen the display when it came home! They 
were brought on great table-tops (I don't know 
what else to call them). On one I counted thirteen 
immense loaves ; on another as many or more. 
All were nicely iced, or dusted with sugar, and 
they looked very inviting. The baker says no 
one sends him such rich batter as our frau — so 
full of almonds, citron, etc. One of the young 
ladies made ** a whole lot*' of almond macaroons. 
They are delicious. What an experience this, 
of spending Christmas in a German household ! 
We are having a real homelike Christmas-time. 
A beautiful tree — all of us were called on to help 
adorn it. Our presents are not wanting. I re- 
ceived a pocket-handerchief embroidered by the 
oldest daughter, an apron embroidered by the 
second, and a beautiful satin glove-box embroi- 
dered and made by the third, Gretchen. The 
mother gave me a copy of the ** Neibelungen- 
lied ** in German, and a great waiter of all kinds 
of ** goodies,'' to be kept in my own apartment. 
But the best gift of all was the warmheartedness. 



MUNICH. 107 

Christmas nighty I was at the grandest concert I 
ever attended: Beethoven^s Ninth Symphony^ 
and a new thing, ** Christoforous/* a legend of 
the Christ-child, arranged in solos, choruses, and 
for the orchestra* I think it was the first time it 
has been given here. Jammed house; spell-bound 
audience ; all kinds of people, and toilets to match, 
from the most superb and fashionable to the very 
plainest. 

It is impossible to live in this wonder city 
and not find each day adding to one's admiration 
for its kings. The most ardent republicanism 
cannot withhold this. Their munificent public 
spirit, grand conceptions, fine taste, good judg- 
ment, energetic execution, and practical improve- 
ments are made manifest in every direction. 
Bavaria, and especially this, its capital city, have 
been subjected to much criticism and no little 
ridicule on account of their so-termed pretentious 
development — their egotism in attempting to rival 
Athens and Rome in the style and magnitude of 
their public buildings ; their ** towering ambition,^' 
as displayed in the number and size of their art 
works ; all being regarded as quite out of pro- 
portion to its insignificant limits and lack of im- 
portance as a political factor in the nations of 
Europe. But whatever creates business attracts 



JOS BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

population, adds to the prosperity and increases 
the revenues of a country ; and this is surely no 
contemptible desideratum in its political economy. 
That these results have been accomplished here 
is shown by the census. Bavaria became a 
kingdom in J 806; Munich is the capital, you 
know; its population in 1840 was about 40,000; 
in 1850, 100,000; in 1870, 170,000; the last 
census, it was over 230,000, and gaining all the 
time. In every direction, new streets are being 
laid out, new buildings are going up, old ones 
are being repaired, and the entire city gives the 
impression of rapid growth and increasing pros- 
perity, all improvements being of the most sub- 
stantial and imposing character. 

The reigning house of Wittelsbach dates 
from 1180. It has ruled under the titles, duke, 
elector, one emperor and king ; that of duke till 
1623; the one emperor. Elector Charles Albert 
becoming Emperor Charles VIII from 1726 to 
1745. Maximilian Joseph succeeded as elector 
in 1799, holding that title till 1805, when he 
was invested with that of king — ** Maximilian 
I, King of Bavaria.^^ The present king is his 
great-grandson. In otherwise idle hours, I have 
had the curiosity to make a kind of catalogue 
of the public work of these rulers. You see,. 



MUNICH, J09 

when one is driving or walking in a strange 
city, the questions are apt to come **in bat- 
talions/' In my first drive, the finest streets 
and buildings evoked some such questions and 
answers as these: **What street is this?*' 
** Ludwig Strasse, planned and built by King 
Ludwig ! '' '* What building is this ? '' '* The 
Royal Library, also built by him/* And so on 
till I became quite bewildered by the many mag- 
nificent structures and institutions of his crea- 
tion, or of other kings. But I have continued 
to question, read, and keep count, till I feel 
quite familiar with these kingly monuments, and 
have taken much interest in my ^'busy idle- 
ness/' 

Maximilian I founded new suburbs : the gen- 
eral hospital which I have visited and inspected 
closely, and cannot praise too much, a riding 
school, observatory, and the celebrated bronze 
foundry, much patronised by the United States. 
His crowning honor to me is that he was the 
first German prince who granted a representa- 
tive government to his people. Ludwig I, his 
son and successor, began his extraordinary career 
as patron and lover of art while yet crown 
prince. His works abound in such numbers, 
splendor and variety, it is difficult to realize them 



no BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

as the creations of one person, one lifetime. Of 
course you are familiar with the character of the 
most, if not all, but perhaps have never ** taken 
the trouble to do this little sum in addition. So I 
shall only mention the names : the Glyphothek 
Exhibition Building, Propilae, Old Pinakothek, 
New Pinakothek, Royal Library, University, 
Bronze Foundry, Stained Glass Manufactory, 
Konigsbau, Festaalbau, Ludwig^s Kirche, Bas- 
ilica, Maria Hilf, Royal Chapel, Ludwig Strasse, 
Feldemhalle, Bavaria, Walhalla, Temple of 
Liberation — the last two near Ratisbon — ^Pom- 
paianeum and Donan, Marie Canal, besides many 
statues and monuments, such as the obelisk on 
the Carolinenplatz, cast in metal from con- 
quered cannon. His son, Maximilian 11, reigned 
from J 848 to J 864. His attention and efforts 
seem to have been principally directed to the 
advancement of science, though he was not 
behind in the beautifying and practical develop- 
ment of the city. To him it owes the Corn- 
market, the Crystal Palace, Railway Station, 
Old Winter Garden, Lying-in Hospital, Physi- 
ological Institute, Maximilian Strasse, Rieger- 
ung. Bavarian National Museum, Maximilian 
Bridge, or rather two bridges in one over the 
Isar, Maximilianeum, Gasteig Park, etc.; cer- 



MUNICH, nt 

tainly sufficient evidence that his comparatively 
short reign of sixteen years was not frittered 
away. This king must have been noble, indeed, 
and specially qualified for a great and good 
ruler; such affection and reverence cling to his 
memory. Only last week I read a most touch- 
ing reminiscence of him recalled by his physi- 
cian and spiritual father, Dr, R, von Reindl, 
who was one of the few present in attendance 
when the king was on his death-bed. At five 
o^cIock of the day he died, in the morning, the 
great bell of the Frauen Kirche was rung to 
summon all Munich to pray for the sick mon- 
arch. Hearing it in his sick-room, he asked, 
** Dear Reindl, what holy day is this ? '' '* Sire,'' 
he replied, ** the Bavarian people are praying for 
their king.'' He spoke again : ^*Ah, am I so 
near my end ? Well, I am ready, I have al- 
ways wished the best for my people, and never 
intentionally injured anyone. I ask forgiveness 
from all," There is something sublime in such 
an exhibition of resignation and humility. He 
was not yet fifty-four years of age, and in the 
prime of his powers and usefulness. Among 
the many monuments of Munich, his, at the 
end of Maximilian Strasse, is the grandest and 
most imposing* 



112 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

He stands in his coronation robes, holding 
the charter, on a pedestal of granite and syenite, 
around which are beautiful figures representing 
Peace, Religion, Justice and Strength. It bears 
the simple, perfect inscription, ** Erected by his 
faithful people/* 

The present king, Ludwig 11, has, it is said, 
carried out some of the plans of his father, and 
is as much given to building castles as was 
Charlemagne. Doubtless you are familiar with 
his reputation for eccentricity, as it has a world- 
wide publicity. So extreme has been its exhibi- 
tion, it has obtained for him the title of ^*the mad 
king.** It is difficult to get a fair estimate of 
him; but if he is mad, there is, like Hamlet*s, 
** method in his madness.** He held his own 
against the Kaiser in the adjustment of United 
Germany; would not be swallowed by the 
whale, though he was such a little fish. He 
works daily for hours on state matters, and signs 
no papers without his full personal examination. 
He is credited with being so shrewd that neither 
his ministers nor others can get the advantage. 
** No fooling him to the top o* his bent.** He is 
kind-hearted and benevolent — gave forty thou- 
sand marks, against the Kaiser*s fifteen thousand, 
to the recent sufferers from the inundations; and 



MUNICH. US 

he seems to keep watch for, and is swift to reward, 
any special exhibition of merit in science or art. 
All this on the one hand; on the other there is 
quite as much. He lives his own life, regardless 
of everything but his own will and tastes. He 
absents himself from his capital. He lives alone, 
leading a singularly isolated life — he would seem 
to be a misanthrope. He does the most anom- 
alous things. Here is a specimen: one of his 
residences (Resident is the name of the royal 
palaces here), six miles from the city, is inter- 
esting for its pictures and extensive and fine 
grounds. He spent some weeks there last sum- 
mer, and won the idolatrous worship of the vil- 
lagers and country folk around, by mingling 
with them and treating them with the utmost 
kindness. One of the picture galleries is called 
^'the Gallery of Ancestors,** its walls being hung 
with portraits of five hundred of the Wittelsbach 
house. Well, he ordered a magnificent banquet 
laid in this gallery, calling it **the feast of the 
ancestors f a plate for each and a tall wax can- 
dle for each; and he spent the night at table, the 
only living guest and banqueter ! 

It is to be hoped the long line of unsubstan- 
tial shadows of the house of Wittelsbach were 
able to appreciate the honor conferred on them. 



JH BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

In personal appearance, he has been an extraor- 
dinarily handsome man; tall, a head and shoul- 
ders above most men; symmetrical, of superb, 
real kingly bearing; with a finely shaped head, 
rich masses of brown hair, and splendid, large, 
dark, expressive eyes* I have seen fine portraits 
of him at different periods from seventeen or 
eighteen years of age till now. In all, he is a 
strikingly handsome man. He was here the 
first of November, after an absence of six months ; 
remained two weeks. I saw him twice in his 
carriage. He is growing exceedingly stout — ^too 
much so for my taste — but still shows what he 
has been. What sharp-tongued Frenchman was 
it who said, ** un homme d* esprit meurt mats 
n^engmisse pas? *^ How much more applicable 
to looks than wit ! 

Oh ! I must not forget to tell you that this 
puzzling king is a poet and a man of varied and 
most exquisite taste. I have the promise of see- 
ing a little volume of his poems, a very few copies 
of which have found their way into the hands of 
the officers of his household, friends of these Ger- 
man friends with whom I am domiciled. They 
are said to be full of a melancholy sweetness and 
pathos. His taste is shown in the furnishing as 
well as in the architecture of his palaces. Every- 



MUNICH. US 

thing from the draperies to the tiniest bit of bric- 
a-brac in every apartment, in all these palaces, 
he has built or is building, is from his own de- 
signs. Those who have been fortunate enough 
to see them rave over their rare and wonderful 
beauty and richness. Will you begin to think, 
'* Is n't that all ; can there be anything more?'' 
I have not told the best ! This strange, shrewd, 
** mad " Bavarian king has a spotless reputation. 
With so much that is admirable, might it not 
be hoped that in the course of time, the eccen- 
tricities will disappear and the ^* fittest survive?" 
The prominent feature in summing up these 
Bavarian kings is their unselfishness. Mere 
selfish gratification seems to have had no place 
in their lives. All their faculties, energies, time, 
revenues and efforts were devoted to a beneficent 
development and improvement of their realm. 
Such men should rule whether ^*born to the 
purple or not." 

So endeth my letter on the kings. Some- 
time I may take you with me to their palaces. 
We can go whenever we wish; so can the 
humblest subject in their kingdom. I saw on 
last Saturday one, thin and old, and poorly clad, 
standing before a picture in one of the royal 
corridors leading from the Cologne suite to the 



n6 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

state apartments. She seemed to be enjoying it 
quite as much as I was. She had her market 
basket on her arm and was on her way home; 
it was full. All she had to do was to make 
choice of her church, or her king*s palace, or she 
may have gone to both; each was alike open to 
her. How much the graciousness of such cus- 
tom is to be commended ! 

L. G* C. 

Munich, January 2, J 883. 




MUNICH* 



Rj^j^ERE is your first letter in the new year. 
ii^l^ ^ have been giving you a rest* I did a 
little sum in arithmetic myself, and that addition 
of letters looked so formidable it drove me into 
sandwiching this interval. Has the experiment 
been satisfactory, do you ask ? Only in proving 
to myself that I can be unselfish. I had a friend 
in Philadelphia once who had the scathingest 
tongue. He used to say : *^ All women like and 
seek more or less martyrdom.'' Maybe and 
maybe. I know I said to myself : ** He has to 
answer all those. Think of such a tax ! Be- 
cause you are away from home and yearn so for 
news, you have been thoughtless. He has many 
correspondents ; he has much to do. Think of 
how you may be interfering I Perhaps he sits 
up o' nights, or heralds the dawn to get you in. 
E — but never mind how. Your conscience has 
been stirred; you'll be good; you are penitent; 
you'll bring forth works meet for repentance; 
you'll give him a rest ! " 

I have been good. I've done my penance 

(JJ7) 



US BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

beautifully. I know I have, for I feel like — an 
archangel. But — look out for the next three 
weeks ! It will be anomalous perfection of con- 
duct if I do not, like the most exemplary, ** re- 
formed drunkard,** give this self-imposed restraint 
a treat a day I Best be looking around for a book- 
keeper — graduate of Bryant Commercial College 
— to help foot up the columns then ! And what 
a quick transit you will make into the beauties 
of multiplication — how the twenties will multi- 
ply 1 Oh ! I can tell you, if you are going ** to 
keep count** on me, 1*11 see to it you*ll have 
enough to do. Now, are n*t you scared ? Your 
letter is beautiful — a prose poem ! I know one 
when I come across it. Did you ever read 
**Prue and I?** One passage, that about your 
Spanish castle, recalls ** My Chateaux.** I kept 
that for years where I could turn to it and read 
it over and over again. A little less, and your 
letter might have slipped alongside. If you had 
only not been as poetical over that Thanksgiving 
turkey and pudding ! How could you substitute 
them for ** nectar and ambrosia ? ** Yes, I may 
submit gracefully to the ** durance vile ** of your 
Spanish castle; may lean from its windows, 
meeting more than half-way the smell of the 



MUNICH, n9 

poppies — ^to be steeped in blissful forgetfulness by- 
it! but not shackles of adamant; not 

**The wind-blo-wn breath of the tossing flower j** 

or, 

**tlie scent of the sweet tuberose^ 
The s-wcetest thing for scent that blows;" 

or, 

**Nord and cassia^s bahny smells," 

No; not anything of all the sweetest and strang- 
est lures and fetters you know can ever get me 
into your Paradise, with its Thanksgiving tur- 
key every day. Goodness! what a material 
creature is your being of two hundred avoirdu- 
pois ! How different your Paradise is from mine,, 
which is 

"a fairy vision 
Of those gay creatures of the elements 
That in the colors of the rainbow live ., 

And play i* the plighted clouds," 

and who share the feasts of humming-birds, but- 
terflies, and gold fishes. Ah ! you have never 
split honeysuckle bells for those dainty drops of 
honey in their depths ! You have never hovered 
over the spiced fumes of pinks ! If you wish 
for an apotheosis, to be caught up into a more 
etherial sphere, get a vase of gold fishes and 
watch how they live on air, and learn ** how 
much too much *' the lord of creation eats. I 



no BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

have one — here in a vase set in a thicket of 
tropical plants — the prettiest creature! I call 
him my ** Flash of Gold/* He goes for a week 
at a time on just ** air, thin air/* filtered through 
the pellucid element in which he sports or that 
element itself* His health, activity, grace and 
symmetry are simply perfect. Thank you for 
the little gem, *^ Summer Love/* I have done 
your bidding, read it and read it again. It is 
worth it ** for passionate remembrance* sake.** I 
made acquaintance with your friend ** d many 
years agone** through another little poem, which 
is still in the portfolio I left behind. It was a 
vade mecumf and as sacred as if it had been 
written for only me. I miss it now occasionally 
and wonder how I overlooked it. I never have 
seen him — the author, '*who builded better 
than he knew ** — ^I hope he has not killed his 
boys with such weight of names. To bear 
them, they should have stuff to send them ** a 
pitch beyond the flight** of common men. I 

wish you had gone to A P *s wedding ; 

then you could have told me all about it, and, 
besides, given me all the old town*s gossip. 
When you choose, do you know, you can furnish 
forth ** a capital dish of that cate ! ** And who 
does n*t like it ? Even Carlyle gives us leave : 



MUNICH. m 

^'Gossip springing free and cheery from the 
human heart is infinitely better than inane^ grey 
haze*** I am quite satisfied about *^the other 
side of the river ^* since your last. Remember, 
it came after my letter of the 1 2th was gone* 

Mrs. M , my cousin A , is indeed a 

divine musician and one of the most brilliantly- 
gifted women I have ever known. I am glad 
you met her, and sorry you did not meet 

oftener. I had a letter from Miss B the 

same day I received your last, the first for a 
long time. Useless to enjoin me to *^ write 
often ^* under such circumstances. I am not 
like the stars that scintillate in the vast silence 
and darkness; I must have response. The 
dear woman has, however, had more sufficient 
cause for the prolonged interval. Such trials of 
sickness, nursing, and death — one of those 
heart-crushing experiences that every life must 
know at some period or other. I am so glad I 
had written several days before her letter came* 
I can say nothing because there is no escape 
from her present life; the claims are those of 
blood, and duty, and love, and ** though *the 
way leads over the burning marl,' her feet must 
tread therein.*' I pray, however, it may not 
last much longer. If she were stronger, I should 



J22 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

feel less solicitude. Do yoa please write to her 
as often as you can. Your words will do her 
great good ; they will give her momentary f or- 
getfulness of that wearing round of duty — some 
refreshing ** surcease of care.*^ I wish she had 
been well enough to stay with me; but she was 
not. I was terrified at times thinking ** if she 
should die.^' You know she would not have 
come except on my account. When she seemed 
breaking down, the sense of responsibility was 
beyond words. My disappointment in the 
whole plan has been one of the most bitter in 
my life. Had all gone as we thought it would, 
ours would have been as I said, ** an ideal trip.*' 
You did not say a word about Christmas. 
Have you erased it from your calendar ? Seems 
to me you might have said to me at least, **A 
pleasant Christmas ; a good New Year.*' Why 
didn't you ? I had such a unique and beautiful 
time, I want to tell you something about it. 
Have I mentioned that I am in a German 
family? The mother, three daughters and a 
young son of sixteen constitute the little circle. 
We three are the only outsiders. My friend 
and myself were taken possession of to help 
decorate the Christmas tree that reached to the 
ceiling. This was Sunday after-dinner work. 



MUNICH. 123 

We helped with a will* At five it was ** a thing 
of beauty/* of da,zz\mg beauty, if it did owe its 
sheen and glitter to tinsel and icicles of glass. 
Then we were dismissed. At seven, we sat 
down to our usual supper. The frau-mutter 
was invisible and the doors of the saal (salon) 
closed and locked on the inside. We were not 
allowed to quit the table till 8:30 o'clock, when 
the locked doors were thrown wide open, the 
portieres thrust aside, and we were invited to 
enter. We rushed! Every kind of light and 
color made such a blaze we could not see for a 
moment. Five tables of presents, mine being 
one, and full of such pretty things. Maybe FlI 
show them to you when I come home. Among 
them *^The Niebelungenlied,'* in German! 
After admiring everything to the full, a pretty 
and tempting table appeared as if by magic, and 
we sat down to a delicious collation. We lin- 
gered over it till eleven, then we went to church 
to see a specially-fine and solemn service. 
Never did I witness anything so strange, spec- 
tral, and weird. It lasted an hour. At the con- 
clusion, we made the circuit of the altars to see 
their decorations. One had the Christmas child 
(a beauty of a wax doll) in a cradle of roses. 
Men, women, and children were dropping on 



124 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

their knees to it* It seemed to do them a world 
of good. We came home to find another table 
awaiting us with beer and coffee in addition to 
the other good things. How long we sat over 
that I cannot say, but Christmas wishes were 
exchanged long before we broke up. I don't 
mind acknowledging it looks as if we ** made a 
night of it.'* The ensuing week was too full to 
even touch on, so I skip to New Year's Eve, 
when we had another characteristic time. There 
was a German New Year's Eve banquet, dishes 
never served at any other time. One was a 
salad, a kind of Salmagundi compounded of 
every known edible and condiment — at least I 
can't think of anything that was left out! 
After several courses of such came all kinds 
of — oh ! goodies and goodies — cakes, nuts, can- 
dies, fruits — oh ! everything, and a great, mag- 
nificent punch-bowl was borne in in a kind of 
state procession. But didn't I hope it was cgg- 
nogg ! It was n't, though ; it was a ** Burgundy 
punch." Well, we ate, nibbled cakes, crunched 
candies, cracked nuts and jokes, and drank 
toasts standing, and clinking glasses till we rang 
out the Old and in the New Year. I was n't 
a success in the drinking, '"pon honor," but 
you ought to have seen how soon I caught the 



MUNICH. 125 

trick of clinking. Our hostess taught us. You 
see that was poetry^ rythm^ the sweetest, softest 
music like Swiss bell ringing ! The punch, I 
take it was an innocuous drink. Nobody^s 
head was lost if everybody's tongue was found ! 
These kindly German people, these pleasant, 
social customs, ** this golden, fair enchanted life 
in the valley of Bohemia ** — how I shall miss 
them when I go! Alas! I am beginning to 
flutter my wings. Paris or Vienna next en route 
to Italy. So sorry to leave, but I want to see them 
too. Now, if you were only in Italy, what a 
pair of tramps we would be ! 

I am waiting to hear what you think of 
**the counterfeit presentment.*' It does not 
show the faded roses and the false teeth (I kept 
my mouth shut), but the frosted locks and the 
cro Vs feet would n't be left out. Remember to 
send it back if it does not suit. 

No. 2 J or 22. Pshaw! don't let's keep 
count — ** The fair penitent." 

L. G. C. 

Municlit January )5, }883* 



MUNICH. 



M THINK I have written to you from this 
city before* Do you remember? Well^ 
no need for alarm. I have no intention of treat- 
ing you to a second dish of my raptures. 

Yours of September 8th came to hand some 
days ago. My promptness in reply is meant to 
point no moral. If people prefer being laggards, 
I have no objection; only /am not of that ilk, 
and must be taken in kind. You know I can*t 
tell a lie. I tried my best to fix up an innocent 
one — ^the kind that cheats oneself into thinking 
it not a lie at all. The ingenious sophism would 
not work. Yet I have done it many a time. 
What is the matter with me? My heart is 
troubled. I am afraid of myself; afraid for my- 
self; afraid I am getting too good for this world. 
I hope you are not praying over me as a dear 
little girl I knew over her baby brother, that all 
the world was praising. ^* Why do you pray so 
for Arthur to be one of the good little children, 
Sprite?'' *'Oh! because all the good little 

(t26) 




Queen Louise. 



MUNICH, Ml 

children die and go to heaven; and then he*II be 
out of my 'wa.y*** 

Well, I just read your letter outright. That's 
all there is about it. 

So let all the world keep the cotton out of 
their ears. It has the secret ; so have the cous- 
ins ! I don't believe you know what a readable 
letter you wrote. It was n't a bit of trouble to 
make the meaning plain ; and for the mere read- 
ing, why every syllable just came tripping from 
the tongue. And long before I got to the an- 
nouncement, the ladies exclaimed: ^*OhI we 
know what he is going to tell — ^his age," I 
don't see why you want to keep it such a secret, 
anyhow. To be sure sixty is n't a boy's age, 
but then neither is it an antediluvian's. Dear 
me ! Only think if you had been *^the prehis- 
toric man," or even Methuselah! Then you 
might have well prepared to whisper it into the 
soundless silence. Somehow you keep all their 
names to yourseE It makes it very awkward 
for me when I need to use them. See how in- 
considerate you are. Do you think that sort of 
treatment ** good breeding ! " If you do, I 'II give 
you a new version, 

I don't feel sure about your last scintilla- 
tion — ^that is, that it was ever started across the 



J28 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

sea. You have not mentioned it before, and you 
had plenty of chances. Instead of crossing ours 
did n't it scintillate ** all of a suddint ** after you 
heard of ours. 

Be a ^^ living monument** of moral courage 
that owns up — when cornered ! Be* 

I had a letter from Miss B last week. 

She is in Paris, and wished me to join her and 
go to Sweden and Norway. Had it been two 
months earlier it would have been the very thing 
to do; but it is now too late for the midnight 
sun. When I go I want to see that too. Do 
you know she is a writer spoken of as the de- 
lightful authoress of ^^A Trip to Scandinavia/* 
''The Midnight Sun/* and ''Travels through 
Russia and the Orient**? I don*t believe you 
dreamed what she was when you saw her. 
You would have been less presumptuous! You 
have done it. Tremble and quake as you recall 
your audacity. What is left for you to do next 
time ? I have had a letter from the other Miss 

B .too, recently. Do you write often to her ? 

It isjworthany one*s while to wring her letters 
from; her. Such weather as she wrote of ! It 
made one think of the "Garden of Eden.** 

As for coming home, I don*t see my way to 
that yet; perhaps in the Spring:. I do not bind 



MUNICH. 129 

myseK to go or to stay; only I wish to go to 
Spain, Greece and the Orient first. Once back, 
then I doubt if I shall ever come again. Chim- 
ney corner days are at hand. We are meantime 
enjoying the world about us. This city is brim- 
ful of interest, you know. 

Yesterday was a grand gala day. I must 
have written to you of the October Fest, a 
mixed exposition of the peasants and common 
classes, agricultural, cattle, horse-racing, games, 
and side-shows. It is held in some meadows at 
the foot of the great statue; lasts about two 
weeks* Open on Sunday, and the second Sun- 
day is the one set apart for the attendanee of the 
court. The late king, poor, mad, gifted, hand- 
some Louis, omitted this. He kept up no cus- 
toms that exacted his appearance in public. 
The regent announced his intention to resume. 
This meant a full attendance of all the royal 
family in all their gorgeousness. It attracted an 
immense crowd reckoned at 70,000. We were 
of it. The day was perfect, crystal clear, and 
just cool, just warm enough. All sorts of cos- 
tumes, equipages, and human beings, the last a 
well-dressed, well-behaved, most amiable mass. 

The regent came in an open carriage with 
six horses and jockeys in brilliant trappings, 



J30 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

preceded and followed by a fine body-guard. 
His three sons and two nephews came in open 
carriages likewise, but with only four horses. 
Some ducal kinsmen in two-horse carriages; 
ambassadors and government officers in all 
their state. It was a most brilliant spectacle. 
I wish I had time to tell you all about it. 

We had a day last week at the Augsburg 
six months^ Exposition just closing. The 
show was, of course, a *^ Centennial ^^ on a 
small scale; the old city was ravishingly quaint, 
medieval and interesting. 

But a four o^clock tea at the apartments of 
an officer in the army, who has married a young 
German friend of mine, was beyond words. 
** The linen closet ! ^* If you had seen it, you 
would have bewailed your bachelor fate. The 
^^tea** was a drink fit for the gods, with a 

soapcon of ram in it. 

L. G. C. 

Munich, October 4, 1886. 




The Historic ■Windmill. 




PARIS. 



JELL, here I am at last in Paradise! 
I was a long time on the way, but I 
would not have back one moment. To para- 
phrase dear, simple-hearted, child-like Hans 
Christian Anderson, ** My journey has been a 
lovely dream, happy, and full of incident/* 

I lelt Munich two weeks ago alone, for a 
twenty-four hours' railway trip, in a mixture of 
foreign countries and a medley of foreign lan- 
guages that would have swallowed me up in 
inextricable confusion, but for the wise precau- 
tions I had taken to fend it off. I made requisi- 
tions in every direction and on every available 
person on almost as extensive a scale as the 
Kaiser might if he were going in for a big war; 
the American consul and all my other acquaint- 
ances — ^their name was not ** legion ** — ^all being 
called upon. I had a royal escort to the station — 

three ladies and Mr. S placed me in the 

care of the ** guard'* (conductor), who spoke 
French and German. His fluency in both FII 
own was a trifle aggravating. My friends had 

(J3J) 



132 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

put me in my ** carriage ^* (sleeper), which was 
elegant and commodious, such as only princes 
and princesses and the like are in the habit of 
using. I had it all to myself. How I wish 
that Tower of Babel incident had happened on 
some other planet. Then they all smothered 
me with kisses, and the dear, young frauleins 
with tears. The warning shriek sent them 
tumbling over each other to get off the train. 
Handkerchiefs were waved from the platform, 
and oh ! in a flash I was out in the universe of 
moonlight and solitude, cut off from all I know. 
But, having obeyed the instructions of my spe- 
cial advisers, the American consul and others, 
not to have a courier, I felt no anxiety. Said 
the A. C, *^Tip the guard.*^ Ditto, said Mr. 

S ,''Tip the guard,*' and ''Tip the guard,'' 

chimed in No. 3. And on my order to that ef- 
fect, said Mr. S , young America, Harvard 

graduate I ** Fve made it bully with the guard." 
So that guard didn't mean to bear the weight on 
his conscience without rendering a fair equiva- 
lent of service. In he came popping every few 
minutes to say something in that dreadfully 
fluent German. If he thought I was not under- 
standing fast enough, resorting to French (and 
this is a most mortifying admission) ; when both 



PARIS, 133 

seemed failing, he tripped into the most ludic- 
rously despairing pantomime ! At bedtime he put 
a crimson shade over my lamp and bade me 
** good-night '* with that exquisite French polite- 
ness that has not its match in the world, charg- 
ing me to call him if I needed anything. But — 
the chilly little bed he had made for me — Ugh ! 
It made me shiver just to look at it* Think of 
it, linen sheets and one spread after my German 
nest of down — a bed of it under and another 
over me* 

Fortunately, I think the earth never saw a 
lovelier night, a full moon and that clear, keen 
air that tells ^^Jack Frost ^* is busy; and the 
pretty country slipping past so fast in the daz- 
zling white light* I sat up, of course. Towards 
morning it grew ^^cold, very cold*^* It was 
ruthless in me, but I stripped that bed of its one 
cover to wrap up in* When we ran into Strass- 
burg at five and got out for breakfast, I just 
roasted myself by the great, generous fire* My 
waiter spoke English* I crossed his hand with 
that douceur, ^*a silver shilling,^^ in England, 
mark, in Germany* Believe me, the sweetest 
sounds ever syllabled by human tongue are 
those of one's own vernacular* On the frontier, 
we changed from German to French cars, from 



J34 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

the luxurious warmth of the former ro the com- 
fortless cold of the latter ; the one heated by in- 
visible registers, the other by a tube of hot water 
laid on the floor — merely a poor foot-warmen 
I was never more tired of a journey, all because 
of the cold; therefore never so glad to see 
the end. 

When I jumped out of the carriage at the 
Gare de UEst, you need not be told how glad I 
was to find a relative awaiting me. He took 
me to the Grand Hotel, the largest and most 
fashionable in Paris, and after I was rested, out 
on the balcony attached to show me the Rue des 
Capucins by gas-light, lamp-light, moon-light, 
and star-light. I was overwhelmed with the 
sight, speechless at such a brilliant spectacle — 
millions, it seemed, of lights in every possible 
arrangement. This winter has been so rainy, 
I am glad I came no sooner. I shall be away 
by the middle of the month to Italy, and return 
again to Paris later. 

The view from my private balcony (at a 
pension kept by a French lady, to which I 
have changed from the hotel) is charming, 
and the Arc de Triomphe de TEtoile is not a 
stone^s throw distant. I also see the great 
palace of Mrs. Mackey from my balcony ; it is 



PARIS. J 35 

nearer than the Arc. It has a little square all to 
itseK. She is now at Nice, and it is closed. I 
heard that Mr. Mackey is worth two hundred 
millions ! Grace Greenwood is in Paris. Her 
daughter is pronounced by everyone to be ** ex- 
quisitely beautiful.** 

I have seen the Hotel des Invalides, Champs 
de Mars, Trocadero, Passy, the loveliest suburb 
of homes ; the Bois de Boulogne, that you know 
by heart, but oh ! what an enchantment to know 
by sight ; the Champs Elysees ; the Place de la 
Concorde; the garden of the Luxembourg; the 
Palace de FEtoile with the grand Arc de Tri- 
omphe, the largest, they say, in the world ; the 
Madeleine; Chapelle Expiatoire; and the after- 
noon at the Gobelins, looking at those wonders 
of wool, silk, gold and silver, wrought in such 
patience ** by the most practiced eye ** by men*s 
fingers never allowed to demean themselves by 
other work of whatever kind ; and the Champs 
Elysees on Sunday afternoon ! This last is the 
great moving human spectacle. I have seen 
nothing like it but Hyde Park on that gala-day 
of **The meet of the four-in-hands.** Such 
countless lines of carriages in the street! 
Looking ahead I could not see how we were 
ever going to get through the approaching host. 



136 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

apparently as compact and impregnable as one*s 
idea of the advancing columns of an army. I 
tell you it filled me with awe. In the street I 
could not detect space enough for even one more 
carriage. One must see to comprehend how 
grand and imposing such a vast concourse of 
seething humanity is. 

The weather is like our last of April. The 
grass is thick and green^ and from three to five 
inches high. The flower-beds in the squares 
are full of flowers. As one walks or drives, 
whiffs of sweet violets are constantly blown to 
you. At least one great flower-shop greets the 
delighted eye every half-square. The sunshine 
is a dazzle most of the time. I must stop, but 
will write more at an early date. 

L. G. C. 

Paris, Febnmry 4, 1883. 





PARIS. 



H, DEAR ! I don*t know where to begin. 
It seems an age since I wrote; ** in point 
of fact'* it has been only — oh! I shan't go into 
calculations and dates. Figures are such un- 
manageable little demons I cut them long ago. 
There is no such thing as getting round them. 
They are so fair and square and exact and re- 
lentless, I throw up my hands and give up with- 
out struggle when it comes to a contest with 
them. Let me see ; I must make a beginning 
somewhere. Where did I leave off, I wonder ? 
Does it matter ? How can it, seeing I am not ** a 
newspaper correspondent/' or writing for fame 
or ** filthy lucre/' or for anything in the *^wide, 
wide world " that can be attributed to a higher 
impulse than natural depravity ? For between 
ourselves, to be really honest, I do believe I am 
writing simply and solely to — nag you ! Why ? 
Oh, just because ^* a woman's reason." It is not 
only argument, but it overcomes all logic, which, 
from your superior sphere of immensity, being a 
bachelor, you have not found out. Just look out 

(137) 



J38 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

when you get your supplemental hemisphere, 
and think of these words ! They are a lot of 
nonsense to you now ; they will be the quint- 
essence of wisdom to you then. But I am not 
going to let you any further into the secrets of 
that blissful ^*two in one existence/^ Go and 
find out for yourself, ** old boy/* In Paradise ! 
Write a poem on those words ; they seem meant 
for me. Well, I have been in this, ** the Paradise 
of all good Americans,** for two weeks plus. 
Somehow I think I can find a better one for my 
soul, but it is a tiptop place for one still in the 
body. 

I came from Paris alt alone one lovely 
moonlight night and sunshiny day. The trip 
had a smack of royalty in it. I chartered a 
wagon lit (a *^ sleeping-car,** as ^we say), and 
bribed the garde (conductor), and otherwise be- 
stowed myself *^ as only princes and princesses 
do in this country,** said the pleasant German 
people with whom I had been domiciled so long. 
**Oh!** said I, "/ am a princess; we are all 
princesses in America, or can be'' — ^the last little 
clause sotto voce* My ** wagon** was all crim- 
son, velvet and mahogany, and looked so glowy 
when my cavalier shrouded the lamp, a generous 
one in size and esthetic in its finish of antique 



PARIS, J39 

bronze, in a crimson shade, I thought it was 
heated to midsummer warmth; but did n^t I find 
out to the contrary before morning I And the 
thin, chilly little French couch after my German 
nest of down — will I ever forget it ? Every time 
I glanced at it, it just resolved the whole me — 
body, mind and spirit — into one big shiver. 
Thanks to the glorious full moon, that could 
not put out Orion though, there was ample en- 
tertainment outside, so I sat up all night. It did 
not seem long till that freezing period just before 
dawn set in; then all my wraps, and the little 
bed^s one cover added to them, could n*t make 
me warm. 

You can guess I was glad when we ran 
into Strassburg at five, and I was conducted to a 
great, bright, comforting fire and a delicious hot 
breakfast. My special waiter talked English, 
too, and I didn^t giv^ him a rest for the hour we 
tarried there. My blessed native tongue ! Take 
my word for it, till you prove for yourself, the 
sweetest sounds human ear can catch are those 
of one's own vernacular. The German cars 
were heated by invisible registers and were the 
perfection of comfort, but at Avricourt, the fron- 
tier, we changed into French, and their heating 
apparatus was a flat zinc tube laid on the floor. 



HO BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

** a mere fcMDt warmer/* ** I kept chilling/* as 
they say in ague countries, all the rest of the 
day, notwithstanding an Italian gentleman who 
spoke four languages, English being one, and 
two French gentlemen who spoke French only, 
devoted themselves to securing my comfort* 
The delicacy of the adjustment of their atten- 
tions I shall never forget — ^to the extreme of 
courtesy, but never verging on obtrusiveness. 
Well, the long, wearing day came to an end, 
and Paris and my uncle met me. But — this is 
why I told you all the above — such a dreadful 
cold as the trip and change from German com- 
fort to French chilliness and cheerlessness gave 
me ! I have been fighting it ever since. It is 
accompanied with an excess of deafness. And 
now you can account for all my viciousness. 

I have had ** a pretty good time " though, 
notwithstanding. Have been to a beautiful din- 
ner party, where I met eighteen very agreeable 
Americans and two or three French people. 
Have made other pleasant acquaintances, and 
'*got in** a reasonable amount of ** sight- 
seeing.** The weather till yesterday and to-day 
has been all sunshine and April-like in tempera- 
ture. The grass is from three to four inches 
high, thick and green in the squares, gardens 



PARIS. m 

and Bois de Boulogrie^ and the flower-beds are 
full of flowers. I have bundled up equal to an 
Esquimau and had several ** outings/* leaving 
my cold to its own devices. And I have — 
^* honor bright'' — fallen in love. Perfectly ridic- 
ulous and absurd in one of my age ! but I could 
not keep it. He is so handsome, so elegant, so 
genial, so witty, so entertaining — so everything ! 
I wasn^t thinking of such a catastrophe, and 
I did not know what was the matter till the 
mischief was done. Don^t pity my infatuation. 
I glory in it. He is ** worth millions,^* and 8 J +♦ 
You ought to see us enjoy each other. Fll tell 
you more about him some time. 

Paris does not overwhelm me as London 
did, because, I suppose, I did not see it first; nor 
does it charm me as Munich did, perhaps because 
I have so much Dutch blood in my veins against 
not one drop of French. The parts I have seen 
do not giYZ it a distinctive character; it is rather 
cosmopolitan, like our great cities, than foreign. 
I had a lovely half-day — nothing seems to be 
done here till after the J 2 o^clock breakfast — at 
Napoleon^s monument, the grandest I have seen; 
the Hotel des Invalides, with its church and ar- 
mory and picturesquely dilapidated ruins of hu- 
man beings; the Trocadero; Passy, a charming 



U2 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

suburb of homes ; and so through a part of the 
Bois dc Boulogne and the Champs Elysccs home. 
Another, I spent at the manufactory of the 
GobelinSt those tapestries as immortal as the 
frescoes of Angelo and Raphael. Some of them 
are worked from express designs by the latter. 
Think of six square inches a day being a full- 
grown man^s daily task I Such a respectable- 
looking body of men as they are, too 1 They 
are raised for that special work, and their hands 
are not permitted to degrade themselves by con- 
tact with any other. Yet another at a Pompeian 
palace — meant to be an exact reproduction of the 
villas of that buried city. It is a gem of unique 
and exquisite beauty, and I broke one of the 
commandments; for I could not help coveting 
my neighbor's possessions. It is full of Story's 
{our Story) statuary. 

One statue, Saul, is in tinted marble, a 
grand, majestic old man, and certainly in some 
respects a triumph of the chisel's art, but I am 
not quite sure I indorse the tinting. No satis- 
faction can be complete. There was a number 
of imposing female statues ; their names are at 
the base in Greek char act ers^ which I know. 
What I did not know, nor any of the party, 
was the English of those names ! I ground my 



PARIS* 143 

teeth and ** vowed a vow ** — when I die. and am 
resurrected, I mean to be mistress of every lan- 
guage under the sun or abolish all but one. 
There shall never be another Tower of Babel 
experiment on the same planet with myself — 
never! One of the paintings on the wall of 
the picture gallery was a haunting one — a tur- 
bulent ocean, a cloudy sky; not high in the 
heavens a thinner mass of cloud through which 
the moon shone with sufficent strength to cast 
a wake of spectral light athwart those heaving 
surges* ** Solitude** was the name* I could 
not keep my eyes from it. I have seen just 
such a night, and felt in all its force the dreary, 
weird solitude of it. Do I make you see it? 
Shut your eyes and try. I go from here to 
Italy in a few days. 

L. G. C. 

Paris, February 8, 1883. 




PARIS. 



JI^^ERE again, after six months* absence — 
jj^^ six months only ! How to believe that ! 
Why, I seem to have lived cycles and cycles ; 
seem to be not one, just one small, insignificant 
I, but dozens and dozens of myself* Yes, even 
sometimes have an enormous delusion that the 
little nobody who went away suffered a not-sea, 
but an no, not-earth — What then ? Ah ! I have 
it: tourist change into something strange, grand, 
glorious (it must out), goddess-like ! Was ever 
presumption so immense and so absurd ? Well, 
/am not responsible for it, but the experiences* 
Could any mortal go through such and escape 
the same scath ? 

September 2d. If good intentions were the 
same sort of masters that czars, emperors, the 
great mogul, the sublime porte, et id omne genus 
are, or have been — ^what a lot of things come under 
that last pathetic head — this letter would have 
been finished and on the way to you. But there 
is such a throng of hindering duties got them- 
selves mixed up in my affairs, I really don't know 

(144) 



PARIS. H5 

what moment I may be ruthlessly torn from the 
performance of what I wish to do to that I wish 
— still more to do ! Such is woman^s — 

September 3d. Just there I was torn off 
again after I don^t know how many feminine 
raps at my door and feminine heads bobbing in, 
and^ worst of all, each of them supplied with 
that rabidest of all tongues, a feminine one I 
(Let alone a woman for a just estimate of her 
own sex!) Don^t that last dozen lines show 
** confusion worse confounded^* from some 
cause ? You have no leave to indulge in mental 
comment, such as, ** Perhaps, my lady, that un- 
spiritual circumstance was in your own state of 
mind, without any outside pressure to develop 
it.** And so don't you dare. Truth is, I was 
in the superlative degree of calmness, collected- 
ness, clearness, comprehensiveness, like clouds 
that have gathered their quota of electricity, the 
inevitable ** next thing ** being ^* the most brilliant 
display of fireworks of the season.** Any letter 
heretofore would have been a battery of ** spent 
balls,** an eruption of mere dead cinders. There ! 
that *s what you would have gotten, what you 
have missed, because of those hindering god- 
desses. ** The more *s the pity.** 

I glance up at that last broken sentence. 



146 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

** Such is "woman^s — /^ What was to follow^ 
I am as much at a loss to recall as a panic- 
stage, I mean — struck, debutante of the boards. 
Oh ! for '* a prompter/' Can't you come to the 
rescue ? I will ** most graciously permit/' And 
do you know, even now when I have double- 
locked (both doors and ears) myself in for this 
blessed privilege of communion with a ** choice 
fellow-bcing," these pages are bound to be 
tossed off with the lightning-like rapidity of a 
printing-press of the latest patent, not only with 
all modern improvements, but those of the 
future too ! For somebody is coming directly 
to dejeuner with me, another specimen of fem- 
inine attributes, that of being equal to inviting 
herself, being not the least. She will claim me 
for the rest of the day. And that's the way it 
will be. 

Yoo will see, 
And alas I and alas I f of this letter to thee. 
If it be not writ a la electricity. 
Of by some still more potent diablerie I 

There's a flash of inspiration for you, 
which reminds me I had a feminine compliment 
yesterday among those other feminine imposi- 
tions. If it had been of masculine origin, how 
different would have been the animus of the 




The Old Lion, Lucerne, 



PARIS. U7 

** return-thanks/* She said, it must be true if 
one woman could bestow such words on another, 
so you need n*t try to put a pin in my balloon* 
** Mrs. Collins is always inspired^* I had just 
**made a remark*' as innocent as **a, naturaP' 
(Scotch for idiot) of any intention to soar above 
" the dead level/' Think of my sudden infla- 
tion. In all your kite-flying days, you never 
gave one such ** a bully send-off.'' You may 
be sure I did not allow myself to ** flop down " 
by opening my mouth except for ** rations " the 
rest of the day. But was I ever ** in the whole 
course of my long life " whirled about in such an 
eddy of nonsence ? I can't account for it, unless 
on the principle of counter-irritation, because 
writing to you who are so lavish of ** good, 
sound sense." Bite and wait for your own 
turn. I am applying soothing lotions already in 
anticipation of the crunching your reply will 
give me. How I'll wish I had not then. Well, 
now I may as well have out ** my dance on a 
fiddle-string." 

I left off at Lucerne. I wish I could re- 
member what I told you of that lovely week 
there. I shan't venture on more than a 
word for fear of repeating myself. But I want 
you to know, if I did not tell you, what a hold 
that **lion" has taken. You know about it; 



J48 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

that it is carved in a grotto out of the natural 
sandstone in the face of the grand cliff, the crest 
of which is fringed with overhanging trees. It 
is reclining, dying, transfixed by a broken lance, 
and protecting with its poor, helpless paw the 
shield of France with its Bourbon Lily. Any- 
thing more noble and pathetic I cannot conceive. 
It made my heart ache as the Dying Gladiator 
did. I wanted to get near enough to take its 
head in my lap and stroke it, and chafe its paw 
with my hands, and somehow make it feel my 
human sympathy. Indeed, it is a miracle ** in 
kind,*^ that dead stone can be wrought into forms 
that so move one. The wonder of this is that 
it is a lion — the lord of the brute creation, it is 
true — but not a human being in a lion^s form. 
The qualities expressed are those tested in our 
intercourse with that ** lower order of creation,*^ 
affection, sense of trust, faithfulness unto death. 
You don't know how often I think of him, and 
yearn to him as to a living suffering creature, 
that majestic creation of one of my fellow beings. 
Oh ! sometimes I take a most reverential pride 
in my race. Who was it — ^Dr. Holland — ^who 
said, **It is a great thing to be a man?*' One 
must agree now and again. I shan't linger on 
Lucerne now. Hereafter, may be. From there 



PARIS* H9 

here will have to be a skeletonized sketch. You 
can^t divine the difficulty of leaving out how 
trying such shadowy limning is to such an 
effusive creature as I^ who have always had the 
dubious distinction of making not somethings 
but so much out of nothingt of seeing more than 
is evet* shown* Alas! poor me* 

From Lucerne by the Schbellenen Defile 
and Furka Pass to the Rhone Glacier, a diligence 
trip from Andermat, giVing many privileges in 
the way of fine views and other things, such 
as '* getting up very high in the world/' At 
last nothing but barren rocks, snow and the 
plucky little wild flowers, that wouldn't be 
beaten out of beautifying waste places as long 
as a cleft or cranny was found to giwe them a 
foothold. At the very highest, 7,992 feet, I 
could have made snow-balls with one hand and 
posies with the other without moving* I saw 
the great glacier from almost every point, and 
in such a glow of sunshine as can only be 
transcended in some other world. From it to 
Visp. Here I had my first **mule ride,*' on 
horsebackf "with a guide to lead it* This for 
four hours ; then a blessed exchange to an open 
carriage, which in as many more hours brought 
us to Zermatt, at the foot of the Matterhorn. 



150 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

Here the windows of my room just framed that 
curious freak of rock and snow, and I saw its 
transfiguration at dawn without moving my 
head from my pillow* Give me due credit 
though for the early wakefulness that won me 
that spectacle. First, in the wink of an eye, one 
glowing, burning golden ruby spot — the tip of 
the horn struck by the first gleam in the crystal 
of dawn; then it spread downward like the suf- 
fusion of a blush to where its base seemed rest- 
ing on a dark pine-covered mountain; and be- 
hold I the whole gigantic horn a dazzling mass 
of that fervid glow. You can guess Beauty in 
the fairy story did not lie stiller or more breath- 
less under her spell of enchantment. 

Then I had my second mule-ride, this time 
a sure-enough mule, to make the ascent of the 
Corner Grat. I don*t know what you know 
about it, but I am bound to tell you something 
at least of what I know. Just here I think 111 
confess to a singular hallucination ; it seems to 
me that nothing I have been seeing ^cuds ever 
seen Before* My analysis of this has only gone 
far enough to convince me there is no egotism, 
self-conceit or anything ** on a lower range of 
feeling^* in this, only that innocent, unsophisti- 
cated child-feeling over an experience out of its 



PARIS. 151 

common way. This is a ridge of rock rising 
in the center of a vast hollow surrounded by a 
vaster amphitheater of snow-peaks and glaciers, 
the former including the Matterhom, Monte 
Rosa, etc., the latter numbering eleven. It is 
the sublimest spectacle my eyes have rested on. 
Retracing to Visp, then by rail along the Rhone 
to Leuk, whence by open carriage again to 
Leukesbad to make the passage of the Gemmi. 
Leukesbad is the place where they do the 
spectacular bathing, remaining in the baths for 
hours at a time, and to beguile the tediousness 
thereof having floating tables on which are 
placed books, papers, games or refreshments — 
the public admitted to see what good times can 
be got in that way. Also there is a great 
curiosity in the neighborhood; a little village 
of a most aspiring turn of mind has built itself 
like an eaglets eyrie on the most inaccessible 
perch it could find, 8,895 feet high. The way 
to it is by a pathway or stairway of ladders 
fastened into the precipitous face of the moun- 
tains. The guide-book does not recommend a 
trial of it to persons liable to dizziness, and says 
the descent is more difficult than the ascent. It 
says also, however, that the view from the 
grotto at the end of the second ladder will repay 



152 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

the climber. You can guess into what climber's 
head that ** put notions.** Yes, she stole off there 
Sunday morning, ^* all alone by herself/* took 
the measure of the feat and feet, kid aside ulster, 
umbrella and guide-book, and went up like a 
beast on all fours, and down like a crawfish. 
Alas! that you can never know the comfort 
and elation of having done it. 

The passage of the Gemmi was another 
bona fide mule ride. I had heard so much 
about the precipitousness and the danger of 
the climb, my heart had been in my mouth 
whenever I thought of it for days before. 
Nothing but moral cowardice prevented the 
physical cowardice of — backing out. Were 
you to taunt me with ^*You couldn't do it 
again,** a la Tom Sawyer, to the comrade who 
had just licked him (by the skin of his teeth), 
I*d follow his example and not try. Imagine, as 
far as in you lies, a mule-ride up a tree or a 
steep spiral staircase; above, sheer precipices; 
below, to such frightful depths, the same — two 
and one-half hours of that. Do you v/onder I 
went ** into retreat ** at the top, if not to give 
thanks, surely for the precious privilege of once 
more drawing some long breaths ? It was a five 
and one-half hours* mule-ride to Kandersteg at 



PARIS. 153 

the foot on the other side* We got to our hotel 
at 9 p. m., and slept the sleep of the elect* Open 
carriage next morning to Thun; the sunshine 
so glorious I didn't believe tt could ever **do it 
again,'* and every roll of the wheels bearing 
onward to fresh charms of earth, air and sky. 
From Thun to Interlaken for a week ; Staub- 
bach, drives and walks in honor of the Jung- 
frau, Monch and Eiger. You know that part 
of the story welL All the world does it. But 
to no one did it ever happen what unto me there 
befell one wonder afternoon. At the Belvedere, 
atop of a pretty height which commands the 
best view of that trio of snow-covered beauties, 
a party of English ladies came in. I caught the 
eye of one lovely-faced, silver-haired, soft- 
voiced, sweet-mannered old lady ; an instant ex- 
change of bow and smile, and then much 
pleasant talk. At parting, she fixed her eyes 
on me with such a blessing-beaming look in 
them, and said with the clearest distinctness of 
those low, silver tones, ** May all your walks be 
pleasant.** I shall carry that benediction with 
me in every walk my feet shall tread in the 
future. From Interlaken to Berne, striking a 
fest, a peasant's wrestling match, set for Sun- 
day ! Fine opportunity for seeing men, women 



154 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

and peasants* costumes. Heard its great organ ; 
saw the bear-clock ; paid my visit of courtesy 
to the bears ; had all its exquisite views ; went 
to its really fine museum to see those marvelous 
specimens of white and black quartz-crystals, 
one weighing over 290 pounds and several over 
200 ; and also ^* Barry/* the noble St. Bernard 
that saved fifteen lives ; and ever so much else. 
Then Fribourg and its lime-tree dating from 
\476, its organ, and a walk that might belong 
to a tale of necromancy. 

On to Lucerne and the ^^Lake Leman/* 
where I went and sat in the garden in which 
Gibbon ** wrote the conclusion of his great work.** 
And next, Chillon ! I loitered away hours there. 
It is the loveliest, most romantic, picturesque 
spot. I wish I owned it ! I stayed till the sun 
set fire to it, the lake and the snow peaks in the 
background, and then saw the full moon swing 
into space right over it; then a long, long sigh, 
and the train through several stages to Ver- 
nayaz, to make another ^^ passage** to Cha- 
mouny. Another gorge, the Gorge de Trient at 
V. equals that at Pfaffers. A funny little two- 
wheeled vehicle and a guide, and we attacked 
the ascent. It was n*t so perilous as that of the 
Gemmi, but it was n*t easy. We crossed a 



PARIS. 155 

waterfall tearing down the mountain side forty- 
nine times over as many bridges* It was beau- 
tiful beyond the reach of words. As to giving 
even an idea of the innumerable beauties of that 
route, it would take a long summer's day to do 
it. There was another gorge, different, but as in- 
teresting : lovely vales, glaciers, torrents, mount- 
ains, snow peaks, cascades, almost as numerous 
as the hairs on your head, especially if you are 
inclining to baldness, and so on. At Chamouni 
the monarch ** crowned long ago.'' I was a 
most willing worshiper at his feet. Like Mark 
Twain, the only ascent of him I cared to make 
was by telescope. But I made that of the Bre- 
rent, the next best thing. The mule ride again, 
with a guide at the bit ; but even that did n't 
seem so good part of the time as my own feet, 
and the last haK hour had to be done that way. 
It was all ** of a piece " climbing up rocks and 
plunging over stretches of snow, while my 
** little hand lay lightly " — not a bit of it — ^with 
the tightest kind of a grip, as well as ** confi- 
dingly," in that of my guide. He was as tender 
of me as a lover — more so — as for the time 
being we were bound to each other ** for better 
and for worse." The Mer-de-glace came in too ; 
not the conventional walk across ; for one who 



156 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

had walked across the Ohio, what was that, 
pray ? Bah ! From Chamouni by diligence, in 
an ecstasy all the way to Geneva. There for 
some days, with excursions on the lake into its 
realms of inesplicable blue, where everything 
was so unreal and ethereal. I felt as if I too 
were a phantom, a dream, a spirit, just as little 
of a reality as all I was surrounded by. From 
Geneva here. 

About that book, and your need of the aid 
of *'good taste, judgment and scholarship,*^ it 
strikes me any one who had to help that much 
would feel, like you, ** certainly very glad when 
the creature was fledged.** Thankee, sir; I 
never can bear to know what I am to have for 
dinner, or any other meal. That for sauce. 

This for earnest. Call on Miss B . I do n*t 

know the woman who is so equal to such de- 
mand. She knows everything and has it at 
command. She is a long distance beyond me in 
such matters. This is no affectation ; I mean it. 

Many thanks for your charges in behalf of 
proper caretaking. I don*t mean to break down 
if I can help it. Am now taking a good rest. 
This pension is a kind of a home — Paris home. 
I could teU some things of its kindness — ^yes, 
even petting — ^would show how much I have 



PARIS, 157 

to be thankful for. The dear, good madame 
takes me in her arms, kisses me ** from ear to 
ear/* and, what is better, smuggles ** goodies ^* 
in to me unbeknown to the others ! It is too 
funny to see her coming with one hand covered 
with a napkin and the forefinger of the other on 
her lips ! My room adjoins the salon. I take 
the hint. Wouldn't you? Answer. 

L. G. C* 

Paris, September i, t883. 




PARIS. 



^^OU wrote the last day of the year and did 
^^- not give me a wish for the New ! Did 
you forget ? Or do you think the custom puerile ? 
I think I like it most heartily, even with its lim- 
itationst as are set forth in some simple lines I 
came across, and which you must read to make 
your conscience tender : 

** Tender and true, friend. 

Yet all unavailing 
To guard or to give you 

One gift that can bless. 
Should sorrow overtake 

Or pain be assailing, 
I could not assure you 

One trial the less. 

"Tender and true friend 

As One — the all-loving, 
Whose arm ■will encompass 

Should evil be near. 
Cling closely to Him — in firm 

Faith in His proving 
Tender and true, friend, 

Tlirough all the New Year." 

I hardly think you deserve to know what 
kind of time I had. You should not, only I want 

(158) 



PARIS* 159 

to tell so much I can^t keep from it ! I was in- 
vited to a f riend^s Christmas Eve tree party. She 
has a lovely, cozy little apartment The tree 
was ** a thing of beauty/^ and we guests made a 
jam that occupied every available square inch of 
standing room* The elders proved to be more 
childish than the children themselves, clutching 
their presents as generous ** Old Chris/^ called 
their names, and screaming and laughing with 
glee at and with each other. Not the tree, nor 
the presents, nor the toilets, nor **the goodies*^ 
overcame me; but one superb, inexpressible 
specimen of the genus homo — an Apollo in silver 
locks, the frosty though kindly glow of at least 
seventy years. One sweeping glance sufficed 
for all the rest of that hilarious throng. Then I 
settled myself in the roomiest, deepest, sinkiest of 
spring-cushioned ** arm-chairs,** and fastened my 
gaze on him, to wander no more while he stayed. 
His wife did not come. How I did wish she had, 
so I could see what manner of woman had dared 
to mate with that grand creature. 

We, my hostess and myself, had a New 
Yearns Eve gathering. Nothing so common- 
place as a tree, though. We put our heads to- 
gether to devise something unique, and with that 
complacency characteristic of the **salt of the 



160 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

earth/* we feel assured we were a success* 
Here's the program. See if you like it. 

Salutatory, an impromptu poem, most care- 
fully ivritten out beforehand and read by me* 
This elicited great applause. Some amusing 
little characterisations by other ladies of our 
household. A metrical version of one of the 
many legends of that half-saint, half-angel of a 
woman — no, I don't know where the woman 
came in — Elizabeth of Hungary, by my hostess, 
who is a woman of much culture and many 
gifts. This was received, as it should have 
been, with the hush and silence of deep feeling. 
Music and games. Then a fishing frolic ; a big 
pond in which every guest was invited to fish, 
as he or she had a bite, which meant a present. 
You can believe the fun waxed *^ uproarious.*' 
I was in the pond to do the biting and put the 
fishes on the hook; but didn't I make them tug! 
Some of them got so many bites they sang out, 
** Fishes, you needn't bite any more if you don't 
want to." Just on the stroke of midnight, 
madame recited a moan of farewell to the pass- 
ing year, and in the next breath hallelujahed into 
the New. We all joined in at the top of our 
lungs, and immediately turned to each other with 
hearty hand-shakings, warm wishes and some 



PARIS. \6l 

kisses. Enjoying thus with much merry and 
kindly talk that held us together till 2 a. m. 
Then I spoke the lines I have copied for you and 
we broke up* We had our sdlon ornamented 
with American and French flags and evergreens 
from Fountainbleau. 

They have a custom here of keeping 
** Twelfth Night/^ I never heard of it else- 
where. The shops are full of cakes baked ex- 
pressly, each one containing ^*a charm/^ as 
tiny as possible. A nice china pig^^ or *^ baby '^ 
most frequently; at least I saw nothing else* 
If a gentleman gets the charm, he names some 
lady for his ** queen'* throughout the year; if a 
lady, she names her ** king.** I got the ** hahy/^ 
the weest of manikins in china. For the rest, 
the days come and go as swiftly as so many 
rays of light, scarcely here till they are gone* 
I have grown to begrudge the hours I have to 
givQ to sleep. I never go to hcd till midnight, 
oftenest later, recklessly sacrificing my ** beauty 
sleep ! ** — and then with the utmost reluctance, 
and in the main feeling as if just risen from re- 
freshing slumber. It takes, I can tell you, all 
my awe of the laws of physiology to force me 
to that. 

** Heaven of the weary head. 
Bed, bed, delicious bed I '* 



162 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

I am not writing a book, painting a picture, 
composing an opera, inventing a new fangled 
bit of machinery, or even devising a new fashion 
in woman^s gear ! No, nor am I planning any- 
extra wickedness; have not committed such sins 
as banish sleep, and yet I shun sleep. What's 
the trouble then? Of the most serious kind, 
because beyond remedy. Not all the narcotics 
known to science can lull me to that acceptance 
of ** tired nature's sweet restorer ** that should 
come as naturally as breathing and loving; it is 
this, it is this : 

** The years they are going, 
And ah I I am growing 
Quite old, yes, quite old. Gaffer Gray." 

To think of sparing five or six hours out 
of twenty-four for oblivion ! Would it could be 
otherwise. For you see **of the making of 
books there is no end,'* and readers must be 
found for them. None more eager or indefati- 
gable than I. If only the days had more hours, 
the years more months, and sleep did not claim ! 

I have ^'Characteristics.*' I am your debtor 
for all the years to come for having written such 
a book. ** *T would be but little could I say how 
much.'* I thank you for your publisher's 



PARIS. 163 

promptness in sending me the book itself. It is 
one to have and to hold as a possession forever ; 
to pick up and pore over, lay down and meditate 
on, and it has this quality of every genuine 
work: you cannot take much at a time; it 
forces you to pause and ponder, and once 
begun you cannot put it away for long; it 
claims you like a cluster of luscious grapes, 
one at a time, and, indeed, with pauses be- 
tween, but no cessation till the bunch is finished. 
I shall not tell you yet which I like best, but 
I will tell you which I had already read and read 
first before your letter came, with its suggestion 
of what I would most probably prefer, and which 
you evidently prefer yourself — the last two ! I 
am lending the book around. ** The old beauty ** 
has it now, and she quotes from it and uses its 
anecdotes, by way of illustration, always with 
due acknowledgment of their source. **That 
book I am reading of Mrs. Collins' friend.** 
I think I never showed such unselfishness. My 
reward is great, though; she is charmed, and 
intends to get both it and ^^ Library Notes'* as 
soon as she goes home. I had a letter from Miss 

B since she received her copy, and she is so 

enthusiastic : ** It is a capital book. The article 



164: BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

on Burns I like best so far. I can*t tell what re- 
reading may do for the others. I like the drift 
of his mind exceedingly, and his Essays — 
themes, whatever they are — are unique, and the 
flavor is sharp and wholesome. There is noth- 
ing better I have read — that is modem — ^that 
reads in his direction.** There ! Are those not 
good words, indeed ? May it have half the suc- 
cess it so richly merits I 

Well, I must hurry to the finis. But first, 
such is the vanity of a wise woman, I am going 
to give you an excerpt from a love-letter that 
came in the same budget with yours : ** I must 
write to you to-night, because I have been think- 
ing and thinking of you, and wishing with all 
my heart I was with you, if only for these holi- 
days; for I am sure you are like myself, and 
feel loneliest at this time, when all are rejoicing; 
but if we were together, there would be such a 
glow of affection that the proverbial yule log 
would fade by comparison, and it would take 
several families to supply an amount of devotion 
equal to ours. But let us hope we shall spend 
many Christmases together. I must and will 
have you, for I don*t believe there is any one 
cares half so much for me, and I am sure your 



PARIS. 165 

place in my affection is simply unapproachable 
to the rest of woman or mankind either/^ 

Is n't she a darling of darlings who wrote 

that ? And it was not Miss B . 

L« O* C* 

PaxiSf January i, 1884, 




PARIS, 



Bl^jj^AVE been enjoying Paris to the last de- 
lllg^ gree. Weather as near perfection as 
this sublunary sphere allows. ** The season ** 
in full blast. Opera, theater and concerts for 
ourselves, these and all kinds of social enter- 
tainments, balls, parties, dinners, etc., for those 
who belong here and are ^^to the manner 
bom.^* 

President Grevy gives jams and crushes ; 
the remains of the aristocracy seem most given 
to the raceSf which occur almost daily some- 
where in and around Paris; the ambassadors 
give their dinners and receptions; the artists, 
the literateurs, the everybody, are giving their 
particular kind of entertainment. Arsene Hous- 
saye gave one the other day — his ** Assembly,*' 
it is called. It is peculiar, called ^^The Chase of 
the Dominos.*' Everybody has to wear a 
domino. To insure an invitation, wit, vivacity 
and gayety are indispensable, while, in addition, 
behind the masks of the women must be beauty* 
Eulogy exhausts itself on the brilliancy of the 



PARIS. 167 

success of this host. A dreamland palace, the 
earth despoiled of its treasures to adorn it, an 
exquisite cuisine, and the incomparable host. 
There is no hostess. One^s private character 
has nothing to do with it; only genius, it would 
seem. Such a curious medley of guests as were 
mentioned, Sarah Bernhardt heading the list of 
the feminine ! I — I — would n't have minded 
being there, not ^* incog,'' but invisible ! Just to 
have heard and seen that constellation of blaz- 
ing stars. Every name was one known to 
fame. 

I am having my chance at the musical side 
of Paris. 

A pleasant American family, father, mother 
and two young lady daughters, give me the op- 
portunity; always ready to go and eager to have 
me along. I am more than gratified. Will 
you be shocked if I admit to a Sunday afternoon 
concert ? You know Sunday has none of our 
sacredness to Parisians; it is only a better, 
freer sort of fete day for those who have time to 
spare. Not all have. On my way to the con- 
cert, a week ago Sunday, I saw the house- 
painters busy; great wagons full of house- 
plunder — ^families changing their abodes, etc. 
Once in the concert-hall, ** The Conservatoire," 
the music made everything divine, I am sure. 



J68 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

I do not coax impressions ; so I think I may tell 
you, as proof of the character of the music, that 
at one part I seemed suddenly to have escaped 
from earth to that sphere we think of as Heaven. 
Hosts and hosts of orchestras were playing in 
perfect harmony with choruses joining in of 
countless myriads of voices, and through it all 
I was catching the music of the spheres. To 
give the least idea of how I felt, is beyond me. 
I was more than lifted up into *'the seventh 
heaven.** The entire audience seemed equally 
under the unutterable influence. It is con- 
sidered the finest audience in every respect that 
Paris has. 

Am to spend to-morrow at the Luxem- 
bourg with one of the charming, young Ameri- 
can girls. Don*t you wish you could be along ? 
She is bright, well informed, amiable — a girl 
worth knowing and not too young — say about 
twenty-six or twenty-seven. She talks well, 
has an active mind, is ambitious for knowledge, 
and I like her. Besides, she cossets me if I feel 
under the weather. I think I like that best of 
all ! Would not you ? I can answer for you — 
yes. I am too tired for another sheet. Are 

you not glad ? 

L. G. C. 

Paris, April i, 1884. 




PARIS. 



(AS very glad to get your letter. It came 
several ckys ago^ and I have been 
watching for that opportunity that never comes 
to those who have nothing to do to answer it. 
You know my trick of promptness. I never fee! 
quite comfortable with the consciousness of a 
duty awaiting its performance. Consciousness or 
force of habit — which ? N* import e; the result is 
the same. And any way^ are they not inter- 
changeable ? 

Yes, I am again a wandering star; or, if 
you will not let me go up into the empyrean, a 
genuine nomad. How some old Bedouin would 
delight in my companionship, if he could not 
make a hig ransom off of me ! But the delights 
of such a life are not without qualification. The 
passage in the Etruria was diabolical. Such 
pitching and tossing — why, long before it was 
over, I felt more like a jelly-fish than a mermaid ! 
I was not sea-sick, but just so tired out with 
trying to keep my feet and my — rations — exist- 
ence became loathsome. Ever so many dis- 

(169) 



J70 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

tinguished fellow-voyagers, but I did not care 
even to look at them. 

But — I had a beautiful week in London (not 
in point of weather!), seeing sights and people. 
Lambeth Palace — I cannot stop to tell anything 
about it that you ought to know; only I read in 
his own handwriting that curious sentence, 

"Dttm spiro, spero. Charles R.," 

of the poor king who lost his head. How I 
wondered when and moved by what impulse he 
wrote it ! And a story told by the custodian as 
we passed an empty niche which had once con- 
tained the statue of Thomas a Becket : Some 
repairs were being made. It was remarked by 
one of the workmen : ** That niche once held a 
saint ; now the niche remains, but the saint is 
gone.^* Immediately another spoke up: **Did 
he leave his address ? ** 

We gave the good part of a day to White- 
hall afterwards, and saw the spot where Charles 
was beheaded, and looked through the window 
of the banqueting-hall, now a chapel, which he 
walked out of on his way to the scaffold. 
** Nothing in his life became him like the leav- 
ing it.*^ 

The Government Buildings, too, proved 
absorbingly interesting, especially as getting to 



PARIS. 171 

see them is a privilege. An English cousin is 
an official, fortunately for us* I saw Gladstone's 
seat in the Cabinet chamber. And Salisbury's, 
too, removed to the opposite side of the table. I 
did not care so much for it. And from there to 
Temple Bar; the church first, which I had seen 
several times. Also the dining-hall of the bar- 
risters. A member of that honorable body was 
of our party, a friend of my cousin, and a cousin 
of the sculptor Flaxman. He is a bachelor and 
** lives in chambers.'* As often as I have read 
that expression, I never thought of trying to 
realize what it meant. Imagine my excitement 
and delight when he insisted on our going with 
him to his chambers for ** five o'clock tea." It 
was raining, dismal and chilly outside. Such a 
lot of crazy, queer, enchanting little cuddy-holes 
as we were ushered into ! I'll tell you all about 
them by and by. He saw my fascinated gaze 
at an old clock, and at once invited me to a 
prowl with him. I do n't know how many little 
dens he took me into, each stuffed full as they 
could hold of antique gems, curios, etc.; among 
them several lovely old clocks, aged three hun- 
dred years and more. The conclusion of our 
prowl was the crowning delight : he gave me 
one ! I do n't know what I said, but I know he 



172 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

will live forever in my heart. He was a charm- 
ing host, and I hope he will invite us again I 

Next, we spent two days at Canterbury, not 
only *Moing'^ the cathedral, but rambling about 
the quaint and curious old town, and getting 
impressions of its inhabitants, so unlike our- 
selves. We attended vesper services in ** Little 
St. Martinis on the Hill,** where Christianity 
was first preached in Great Britain by St. Au- 
gustine. Some parts of its walls are 1,500 years 
old. I am not going to make a guide-book of 
my letter, but if you don*t know about this 
church it is worth your while '*to read up** on 
it. Then we crossed the channel, and brought 
up at Amiens. Its cathedral and museum are 
temptations to all tourists. We loitered two 
days before coming here. The time was well 
put in. I fear I am more humane than esthetic 
though, for I was more interested in an institu- 
tion, quite modem and altogether practical, into 
which we stumbled, as it were. It was for chil- 
dren whose mothers were out doing work by 
the day. They are clothed, fed and educated, 
as well as kept from morning till night. I had 
read about such an institution years ago in a 
book by Sir Francis Head, called **A Faggot of 
French Sticks.** 



PARIS. 173 

And here — well Paris is Paris! The 
weather interferes though. It is rain, or clouds, 
or fog, or dampness, almost all the time. Sight- 
seeing does not prosper under such auspices. 
Still we have seen a great deal. Among those 
that have fastened on my memory, like tar on 
one's best gown, is *^di sight I saw*' at the Jar- 
din des Plantes. In one of the cages of the wildest 
of the wild beasts a dog and tigress are dwelling, 
and have dwelt together in peace and harmony 
for six years I And the birds and the animals 
seemed as conscious of observation and as eager 
to excite admiration as their kindred, the human 
race. There is nothing more interesting here, 
I think, than this garden. The collection and 
arrangement of the plants are something won- 
derful. Then its age, 250 years, and the asso- 
ciation of great names, such as Cuvier, Buffon, 
Humboldt, etc., gb/^ a vivid impression of the 
value of men to mankind. 

I have had some new experiences in various 
ways. Several trips on the Seine in long, 
slender steamers called swallows, both by day 
and night, moonlight and gaslight. And drives 
on the quais, the most magnificent I know of. 
Palaces and palaces, and gardens and gardens, 
on the one hand, and the grand balustrade over- 



J 74 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

hanging the river, with its myriad crafts, all re- 
peated on the opposite bank, the drive bordered 
by double rows of trees* One can^t help own- 
ing the beauty, grandeur and completeness of 
this Paris, not all of it like that of youth ** La 
Beaute du Diable/* I have met some pleasant 
people, too. And was at a Thanksgiving Din- 
ner, turkey and mince pies, American fashion. 
Everything tempting, but the pies looked so 
delicious, I said to myself as the hostess was 
cutting them, ** If she does not give me a big 
piece, I shall wish I had not come.^^ She did ! 

L. G. C. 

Paris, December 6f )885. 





PARIS. 



Y return will be delayed a few weeks 
^ longer. It was a trial to feel I must 
submit to this at first, but since these dreadful 
storms have been raging on the ocean and coasts 
I have become reconciled. I have had my share 
of ** old ocean*s buffetings.*^ 

I am here en route for home. Miss B 

came from Sweden to Berlin and remained there 
a week. She had never been there before. 
Then she came here, to join the lady with whom 
she had crossed and was to recross. On reach- 
ing here, our program had to be changed. The 
Arizona was not to sail at the appointed time, 
being postponed to meet the new postal arrange- 
ments. Miss B *s friend got her head set on 

the Nile trip. Miss B was all eagerness. 

They would not go without me. The position 
was embarrassing. So I had to consent. "We 
leave day after to-morrow. Think of it ! You 
have bantered me to write to you from Europe, 
Asia, Africa, and so on I Perhaps you will get 
a line or so from under old Cheop*s unfathom- 

(175) 



J 76 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

able countenance, or from melodious Memnon*& 
colossal knee* How I wish he — it — ^would burst 
forth once more into that mournful plaint, just 
for me ! 

L» G» C» 

Paris, December 3, 1886. 




M 



PARIS. 



OURS of the 23d February came last 

Wi night. I had spent the evening out. It 

was pleasant, indeed, to find letters and papers 
on my table awaiting me. 

Sorry I disappointed you about the Jerusa- 
lem trip. ** It was not my fault/' you may be sure. 
That is one of the drawbacks of traveling in a 
party. The composing members are much 
given to pulling different ways and not making 
any sacrifice of individual preferences. This 
friction is trying, but the ** kindly race of men ** 
(Heaven save the mark!) is gregarious, and 
traveling alone is almost worse. So — o — 
o — h ! Next time you shall have a letter writ- 
ten in the shadow of the temple ; perhaps an- 
other under a canopy of the boughs of the Cedars 
of Lebanon ; and yet another within sound of 
the purling brook of Hebron. Be consoled. 
Above all, do not doubt that I shall make con- 
tributions from every ** grand division ** to your 
entertainment. It is not so long ago you 
prodded me with that expectation on your part. 

(177) 



J 78 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

Not that I missed its flavor of mockery, ma, 
foil Ah! the ** golden fair enchanted** future, 
that holds the goals of all our ambitions, the 
realities of all our dreams, the crowns of all 
our victories 1 

Do not send the book. Anxious and eager 
as I am to see it, I am not willing to run the 
risk of missing it. I am no nearer a decision as 
to the date of sailing than this ; it will not be 
earlier than the 26th of this, or later than the 
middle of next, month. If the latter, because I 
will have waited for company. Some very 
agreeable ladies are going then, and have urged 
me to wait. When I persisted in holding the 
negative attitude, one became exasperated and 
burst forth, ** I bet five dollars you will.** Did n*t 
*^OId Kaintuck** speak out then? And if I 
must tell on myself, I have not felt so sure I 
would not since I 

I like the title of the book more and 
more. There is genius in it. Whose ? Don*t 
tell me not yours. It is **so smart,** as they 
say in Kentucky. I never think of it without 
its stirring my brain to try *^to think up** a 
better one. It must be ** a brilliant success.** 

We are in a tremendous hubbub. ** Ma- 
dame** is *' moving.** We are going to be 



PARIS* \79 

almost *^ next-door neighbors'^ to Queen Isa- 
bella. 

As soon as in order, ** Madame ** gives a 
house-warming. She is a generous soul, and 
ought to be a cha.tela.ine. Her grandmother 
was a duchess at the court of Louis XVI. She 
never not only omits them, but makes chances 
to givz entertainments. An invalid heiress fol- 
lows with **ei five o'clock tea'* in her private 
salon. There will be rivalry of tea-go<wns; 
mine is ready. Ever since I gave it a trial 
donning on its coming from ** the man-tailor,*' 
they have called me ** Lady Collins." Bloom 
and beauty having departed, age and wrinkles 
are — knighted. Heigh, ho ! why could not 
one have all honors together ? 

J-^. Kj* \^* 
Paris, March 8, J 887. 



PARIS. 



j^^ERE I am stilL You will doubtless he 
ji^iji^ surprised. I am. 

Day after to-morrow will be a birthday an- 
niversary, and everybody has found it out I 
Ugh! Think what a nightmare the prospect 
of that tell-tale cake, with its little wax tapers to 
the number of my years ! 

You don^t know about the cake. My dear 
good landlady witt observe the birthdays of her 
guests with a grand dinner. This cake is the 
'^ grand piece de resistance/^ borne into the 
room and making the circuit of the table with 
its little tapers, for the inspection of everybody. 
"Would you like such a fireworks^ display of 
your years ? 

Well, being a man, maybe you would not 
care. But do not pronounce on me. Just wait 
till you are transmigrated into a woman to 
come into a knowledge of our much abused 
reserve on this point. 

If a woman ever is ** the weaker vessel,*' 
believe me just here is where it comes in. The 

(180) 



PARIS. 181 

idea of home dominates her, though the home 
itself has been desolated and broken up forever. 
This is not all in my case. 

Do you know what it is to have dispensa- 
tions of conscientiousness ? I am sorely troubled 
at times, and the trouble grows. It seems such a 
life of idleness and self-gratification this I am 
living, one of luxurious wandering and enjoy- 
ment of the fair face of this lovely mother earth, 
and beautiful accumulations from all times and 
nations and peoples. The flight of time — Schiller 
says — 

** Arrowy swift the present fleeth." 

But to me the years now seem come and gone 
like lightning flashes. 

Shall I tell you how the days go? Will 
you care to hear ? It cannot be but that much 
of interest should come into them. The ** sight- 
seeing,^' of course, never comes to an end. 
Think how impossible when I tell you the 
** Salon,** just opened for its annual exposition, 
numbers largely over 5,000 works ; thirty-seven 
rooms of pictures ! I spent yesterday afternoon 
in them. Guess the wear on eyes, feet and 
brain of the most cursory survey. At last I had 
to sit down, and close my eyes to shut them all 
out, // I could. As if I could ! 



1^2 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

Why I could not even sleep for their haunt- 
ing^ though I went to bed before ten to spare my 
eyes from further seeing. One gorgeous ** Cle- 
opatra/* CabanaFs, proved as irresistible a sor- 
ceress to me as if I had been a Caesar or an 
Anthony. It represents that incident given by 
Plutarch in his ** Life of Anthony/' when, after 
the battle of Actium, dreading what may happen 
to herself, she is having deadly poisons tried on 
prisoners condemned to death, to find out which 
would cause the least suffering. I shall not go 
into a description, but, if possible, will get a 
photograph, and show you that to give you some 
idea. Another historical incident, from the brush 
of Charrier, is that of the Empress Ariadne, who, 
becoming disgusted with the excesses and cruel- 
ties of her husband, the Emperor Zeno, had 
him, when he was — some say in an epileptic fit, 
others drunk — walled up in the royal tomb. 
She is standing beside it, bending in the attitude 
of listening to his furious struggle. Such a pic- 
ture has a dreadful fascination. Another, by 
Constant, is of ** Theodora,** throned in all her 
oriental barbaric magnificence. This is Sara 
Bernhardt*s great character, and the picture is 
very like her, whether or not meant for a portrait. 



PARIS. J83 

I saw her in it. Do not think I am going to sur- 
feit you on pictures though. 

Here is something about living, working, 
worth-having-been-born women. Two French 
hdies of the St. Germain exclusive strain. 
Parents gone, fortune gone, health gone for 
years. Then the struggle for a living. You 
can't think how interesting I find them. One is 
a genius, an exquisite musician, a composer. 
Some of her compositions are the daintiest, 
most poetical and pathetic I ever listened to. 
She is a writer of books as well, charming ones 
at that. The other is a singer. They gave 
me a Musicale a few nights ago. I saw some 
most entertaining messieurs. One in particular, 
could not speak English, but could read it. You 
should have heard him discuss Scott, Dickens, 
and Shakespeare; the last with a fervid en- 
thusiasm. FII tell you more of these ** anon.'* 
One beautiful, fallow countrywoman, ** divinely 
tall and most divinely fair,'' proves delightful. 
She invites me to ** four o'clock tea and home- 
made cake," and what talks we have, and what 
bouts of sauce, not to say wit ! 

Then Paris is looking its loveliest in the 
witchery of May greenness and bluest of skies 
that fairly laugh. Long walks and longer 



J84 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

drives and dawdles, and prowls in which 
plethoric purses are swiftly depleted. I can not 
keep a sou in my pocket. How much I shall 
have to tell, but I know who will never — 
listen ! 

L* G. C* 

Paris, April 20, 1887. 




M 

m 



PARIS. 



H ! you good friend, both the letter and 
the book have come. If either had 
come by itself, I would have thanked you most 
for it; but as they came together, I — I thank 
you most for — both. How could I do less ? 
** Fifty-two, did you say it was ? ** No, I did not 
say. I never meddle with figures. If I do, I 
am sure to get the worst of it. I do not like to 
get worsted. Do you? As for a woman^s 
telling her age, who expects it? The silly! 
As a matter of fact, I can say, in a general way, 
I am old enough, though I might be older; 
and young enough, though I might be younger. 
I might be sixty-two ; I might be even no more 
than forty, yet the trouble is I am neither. So 
far as all the world is concerned, it has no con- 
cern whatever in the matter. So far as you 
are, I have a misgiving you know without my 
telling. I only wish you had not known before 
you finished the book ; and that you had asked 
me, and when I thus declined to tell on myself, 
you had wrought yourself into a fume about 

(185) 



186 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

it. But don*t I feel cheated that I shall never 
know how you would have threshed out that 
cereal! Is not it a curious fact that overpro- 
duction is one of the ills of the present period of 
our little planet^s history ? 

Those thousands of pictures ! That mag- 
nificentt enormous ** Salon ! ** Can you believe 
it — there are ever so many other ^* Expositions ** 
in full blast ? They come in such numbers and 
swift succession^ to see each is to wipe out the 
memory of the one just seen as the succeeding 
wave does that just gone before. Yet the great 
names are a temptation you do not even dream 
of struggling against. You would not if you 
could. The last time it was Millet^s. I hope 
you have seen his ** UAngcius/* or at least an en- 
graving. There is the original or a replica^ in 
Baltimore, I think, which has been exhibited in 
the United States. I had seen an engraving 
only, but it was an imperishable memory. 
When it was mentioned as one of a full col- 
lection of his works to be exhibited, you will 
see I could not have missed it. 

I wish I dare attempt to describe the many 
out of it that won at once my most enthusiastic 
homage. Almost all peasants and peasant life, 
shepherds and shepherdesses, with their flocks, 



PARIS. J 87 

peasant women {ceding children or chickens^ 
harvest fields and gleaners — the subjects so sim- 
ple and homely, the treatment just the magic of 
brush and colors, the mastery of genius. Not 
all held me equally ; but all that I liked held me 
absolutely. I never had a more unalloyed en- 
joyment. How I wish I could buy all of them 
and bring them home with me ! Not one was 
for sale, all being loaned by their owners for the 
purpose of realizing enough to erect a monument 
to his memory. 

But I can^t talk any more about pictures. 
I want to thank you for **the little book." 
Thank you for it, from its very inscription, 
through every phase of its working out, to 
the finished volume I have just read and laid 
down with a pang because it is ended, because 
there is no more. It is a book* It is worth 
having written; worth having taken time to 
write. It merits all the praise lavished upon it. 
There is not a word too much. It may be like 
all those they liken it to, but it is most like your- 
self. There can be no question of the brilliancy 
within, the handling of such vast and varied ma- 
terials ; of the enormous reading, the close atten- 
tention, the critical observations, the careful 
judgment, the good taste, necessary for such an 



J88 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

acquisition of knowledge and information as you 
have so delightfully utilised. The best about it 
is not that it is brimming over with this informa- 
tion, brilliancy, entertainingness, power, but that 
it is full of wisdom as well. The combination 
to such degree is not common. 

It came — **the little book** — at nine last 
night. I read the letter, and another from 
another gentleman, then began to handle it* I 
cut the string; took off the wrapping; looked at 
the binding; pondered over the title, liking it 
better and better; then — the reluctant plunge. 
I knew I ought not begin reading, as if I should 
become interested I could not stop. Late read- 
ing tells so on me. Besides, it is the worst form 
of **laiQ** — keeping right on till the book is fin- 
ished. Well, you or some one had cut only a 
part of the leaves. You got the full credit. I 
said when I began : ** How thoughtful in him to 
cut the leaves.** Directly I found some were left 
for me to do — of course, exactly when I could 
least bear to lose a moment. My paper-knife 
went through with a rip, I can tell you. On 
again, almost holding my breath, or swept away 
in a convulsion of laughter. Then more leaves 
to cut. I became suspicious, and said something 
not altogether amiable, maybe : ** He did this on 



PARIS, 189 

purpose/' There was repetition of cut and un- 
cut all the way through; and I shall always be- 
lieve, even though you convince me to the con- 
trary, that you did this with malice prepense — 
knowing the obstruction and interruption would 
act like salt on thirst. At midnight I said: **I 
will not read another word/' I was very tired, 
having had a long drive, nearly from noon till 
night, A word about that drive. It was with 
an invalid heiress, the same I have mentioned. 
I wish she and you might ** make a match of it.'' 
She is so bright and every way agreeable, be- 
sides having the fortune ! 

The drive was in the Champs Elysees and 
the Bois du Boulogne, the fashionable resort. 
It is always a kind of gay carnival of fashion. 
The brilliant afternoons ; the handsome equip- 
ages, the elegant occupants arrayed as not Solo- 
mon in all his glory was. The — your — sex not 
less so than mine ! You ought to have seen one 
I saw yesterday. Alone in his open carriage, 
evidently '*got up" to attract attention; a lilac 
ribbon tie; vest of silk, matching in color; bou- 
tonniere of flowers in the same dainty color; and 
pantaloons of plaid lilac and white. Was not that 
a spectacle? But once in the beautiful park, 
such visions were lost sight of. The sky, air 



190 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

foliage and flowers were Eden^s own. I got out 
of the carriage and gathered her hands full of dai- 
sies and anemones* She sat in the shadow and 
quiet of the trees watching me. One avenue 
was specially interesting. On the left were 
pretty bits of water, scarcely lakes, low hills 
with tumbling cascades, stretches of thick-set 
trees and flowery hedges. On the right, van- 
ishing distances of the greenest sward, edged 
with scattered clumps of trees, blotched with 
alternate sunshine and shadow. Away off rose 
the hills that encircle Paris — a misty greenish- 
black rampart against the sky. Sometimes we 
talked; sometimes were silent. These blessed 
long days ! At six o^clock we came home, lest 
she should become too much fatigued. But I 
could not stay indoors, and went out again for 
a walk. I came back loaded with old-fashioned 
spice pinks — have not you some in your gar- 
den ? — and great golden marguerites. 

But ** the little book.^* This morning I was 
at it again long before getting-up time. The 
maid smiled when she came in at seven. And 
now I have read it, and knowing the pleasure 
of the reading, I can not help wishing more of 
it was still to do. 

Hurry and write another, please. Why not 



PARIS, 19 i 

**A Club of Two. From the note-book of a 
woman who was sociable ? ** Beat Mrs. Caudle 
if you like, or Prue. I am so glad you have 
given ** Prue and P^ a place in your book. It 
has always been one of my giving-away books. 
Only the other day I was telling of it to some 
who do not know it. Think of their loss. 

Can not say a word about coming, but that 
it will be soon. 

L. G. C. 

Paris, May 29, J887. 




VENICE. 



ft 



OURS of May J 7th '^ttst to hand. 
^- Date of your previous one, April 23d — I 
mean its receipt* This is what I call a most 
unreasonable space to let slip between. So you 
see, if the letters come oftener, I complain (being 
conscience-stricken, thinking I am imposing on 
your good-nature), and if they lag a little, I 
complain of that. If you can, match me with a 
more telling illustration of the impossibility of 
satisfying a woman ! I am writing with some 
qualms, I can tell you. You did not ask me to 
write till I got to Switzerland. A mighty neat 
way of putting the spaces in for me as well as 
yourself! Did you ever make a note of that 
distich of John Hay*s — 

** There be three things which when yoo think they are coming arc 

going— 
"When you think they are going are coming — 
A crawfish, a diplomat and a w^oman?" 

I could not get it in right, but that will not 
hinder you from taking in that I am like to go 

(192) 




The Old Lion at the Arsenal, Venice, 



VENICE. 193 

contrariwise. Besides, I know what you will 
miss if I do not write — enough to make you go 
into mourning, a bit of crape at your button- 
hole. You don*t know what a Florence letter 
I wrote to you ! Now, I am not given to self- 
praise; but I know the difference between still 
and sparkling catawba, glass and diamonds — 
stupidity and sparkle. 

So I speak, ** having authority*^ — that Flor- 
ence letter, written to you long before I was 
up or the sun either; yes, just as Guercino*s 
maidens, fashioned of dusk and dawn, were be- 
ginning to put the stars out— that was a letter ! 
Had it only have reached you, it would have 
thrown you into a fit of St. Vitus* dance, or 
something equally demonstrative. I am a light 
sleeper, late to bed, later to sleep and early 
awake. I cannot get up ahead of all house- 
holds, so I do not even hold in the fitful fan- 
cies, but let them have it all their own way. 
Such fascination as the habit is ! I fust snap 
my fingers at the frowning brows of Messrs. 
Abercrombie, Upham, Sir William Hamilton 
and all that cloud of accordant authorities on 
mental discipline. And for that letter, as for 
me, I did not have any more to do with its flash 
and fun and sauce and sparkle than one who 



\94 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

sits on the sea-shore and watches the waves in 
a frolic, or as Longfellow says it for me : 

** sits in f every and muses 

Upon the changing colors of the waves that break 
Upon the idle seashore of the mind*" 

Ah! if you had only got that letter! 
Alas ! and alas ! it was never even put on paper. 
You do not know how sorry I am, though, that 
you can never, never see it, and read it, and 
pirouette over it, and maybe frame it and hang 
it up on your walls, to be a memorial of me for- 
ever and forever. Indeed, I did so want you to 
have a Florence letter, for you know somebody, 
Rogers maybe, says : 

** Of all the fairest cities of the earthy 
None is so fair as Florence, 

Search within, 

"Without ; all is enchantment I " 

It ivas so while I was there ! The fore- 
noons with Raphael, Angelo, Fra Angelica, 
Carlo Dolce, Guercino and a few others; the 
afternoons in long drives among the haunts of 
Galileo, Mrs. Browning, Landor, and such 
spirits. Will you ever know the delight of it, 
the beatitude? I hope so. Don*t put off the 
coming till you are too old. But now I am in 



VENICE. 195 

Venice! In Venice in June! And yesterday 
and to-day have been each the very one de- 
scribed as I have read somewhere : ** The day 
was one of those which can come to the world 
only in early June at Venice. The heaven was 
without a cloud, but a blue ha^e made mystery 
of the horizon where the lagoon and sky meet. 
The breath of the sea bathed in freshness the 
city, at whose feet her tides sparkled and slept.** 
And to-morrow will be the same; and day after 
day I feel in all the spirit of a prophetess. In- 
deed, the weather might have been blown from 
Paradise. Drifting about in a gondola ! The 
largest, most ecstatic breath you ever drew must 
come in right here. Even that will not express 
the exquisite, intangible bliss of such existence*. 
It eludes words as quicksilver eludes the grasp* 
I am having long mornings, enchanting after- 
noons, whole days of it. Do you wonder if I 
feel as if under some magician*s spell ? Come, 
take a drift with me, and find out for yourself. 
First, the length of the Grand Canal. Your 
gondolier is behind ; you do not see him. There 
is nothing to save you from your enchanted 
fate. The blue sky above ; the crystal waves 
beneath; the beautiful, stately old palaces on 
either side, time-stained, unlike anything you 



196 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS 

ever saw^ a fascination to sight and dreams, that 
will haunt you the rest of your life; the other 
gondolas sliding by; now and then a pleasure- 
boat, with its crowded deck and gay awning, 
and though moving by steam as noiseless 
as ours — no smoke; presently another bridge 
shows its span ahead, and then you slip under 
it and on; next you are idly noting a pleasant 
looking party of ladies and cavaliers coming 
from the cool archway of a palace to their wait- 
ing gondola, and you are a little startled by 
hearing behind the gondolier's voice, ^^That is 
where Lord Beeron lived/' You remember you 
had meant to ask him to point out that particular 
one. You rouse, lean forward, give a curious 
gaze, then drop back into your drift and dreams, 
powerless to keep from it! Ah! — that is the 
Rialto. You rouse again, and give another in- 
tense look, and then it is left behind. You shoot 
another bridge and — ^you givQ it up. This 
can not be earth. You know it is not heaven. 
Where are you? Surely you are at last on 
the direct way to it. Heaven — the Heaven of 
not your reading the Sunday-school and cate- 
chisms taught, but of your dearest dreams and 
purest moods — ^that is awaiting you there in 




Lord Byron's Palace, Venice. 



VENICE. 197 

that dazzling glory of silver radiance where the 
sky and water meet* You lean forward in- 
voluntarily, your very soul in your eyes, striv- 
ing to pierce that shining veil right to the Great 
Mystery. You do not feel baffled. You might 
have done it, only the gondola has curved into 
a side canal and your vision is shut from sight. 
Best so. One could not bear such ecstasy 
longer and live, I think. But you are like one 
in a trance for the rest of the way. Before you 
sleep, you open your little day-book to make a 
record of the day. Here is what will greet you 
when you turn its pages in the future — ** Per- 
fect, Perfect Venice.'^ That is all. Will you 
smile over it then? I wonder. Dear me! I 
hope not, for the experience has come after my 
head is gray. Earlier you know — 

" Little we dream when life is new, 
And pleasures fresh and fair to view, 
While beats the heart to pleasure true 

As if for naught it w^anted. 
That year by year, ray by ray, 
Romance's sunlight dies away. 
And long before the head is gray, 

The heart is disenchanted,'* 

No ! no 1 a thousand times, no ! You will 
droop over it and dream it all over again, and 



J98 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

thrill and throb with the remembered rapture as 
even now — 

** For passionate remembrance' sake." 

You are good to tell me so much of your 
life. I am glad you had the gracious hours at 

C with your friend. Will his verdict have 

anything to do with the fate of the ** Essays ? ** 
But you must never think of me as a judge and 
critic. I appreciate^ enjoy and have a wonder- 
ful fund of enthusiasm, once it is set going. As 
for anything that does not ** commend itself to 
my taste/* I simply turn away from it. Why 
use the scalpel or scathing tongue ? I should 
be marvelously well-pIeased, though, to have a 
reading of the Essays. 

I had a letter, so long in the coming, from 

Miss B some days since; so was already 

in possession of the ** pitiful story.'* No, not 
that. I think whatever comes to us is our true 
work, hard as it may seem at the time. Did 
you ever see or hear of an argument of William 
Corry*s in his prime that had a speech of 
Caesar's in it ? One line of it left its brand in 
my memory. John (my husband) brought it to 
me to read when he was George Pugh's part- 
ner, and we were living in Cincinnati. ** If I 



VENICE. 199 

am to die to-morrow, then that is what I have 
to do to-morrow/* John declaimed it for me 
as he had just heard Mr. Corry* It was never 
to be forgotten* I hope you have written to 
her ere this is in your hands, and may your 
words be indeed helpful, inspiring. How often 
we all need such. She is a splendid creature, 
so gifted for a household deity! ** Caterer, 
cook and nurse,** who so shines at the festal 
board, in the fireside circle, wherever knowledge, 
wit and wisdom shed their light and graces! 
All that is wanting is the proper sphere. And 
yet there be those so blind they will not see ! 
Who is of them ? 

What have you found in me that gave you 
leave to think I cared specially for ** Kentucky 
gossip,** or indeed for any gossip? Please, if 
you have such an impression, seek for a re- 
vised edition of me. ** Assuredly** (Mahomet*s 
cuss-word), your letters hitherto have not run 
to gossip and I have not complained. **A con- 
tinuation of the same to the same,** may chance 
to be all sufficient. 

Yes, do not hunt up strange fiddle-strings 
on my account. You know I have reached 
the years where old strains are best. '*AII the 



200 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

same/* write whatever goads you to bestow it 
upon me. Oh ! I glanced from my window — 
if you could just see that overarching sky, that 
is heaven ; if you could drink in a draught of 
this air, that is very elixir of life, if — if you could 
see what I see, feel what I f eeL Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
Perfect, perfect Venice 1 

L* G* C. 

Venice, June 8, J883. 





LUCERNE. 



jATURDAY, at Zurich, yours of June 
26th **came to hand/' Here in the 
filtered waters of glacier torrents, I drink to the 
letters that are never written ! Now for your 
response. Let it be brilliant as the dewdrops of 
early morning, alluring as was to our childhood 
that trip to find the end of the rainbow with its 
reward of a bag of gold,satisfying as his day to 
Longfellow's '' Blacksmith/' 

*^ Something attempted, something done/' 
Be sure it be of many simples ^^ composed in 
all parts to perfection/' See to it you fall not 
short of Lamb's happy hit — only this and noth- 
ing less. 

Are you ready? I am in Switzerland. 
Bow your head; here is a snow-cap. Crane 
your neck ; here is a chain of the Rigi's light- 
ning. Now straighten to your loftiest stature; 
only that can wear this mantle of clouds I 
snatch from the shoulders of Pilatus to fling 
over yours. And last, here is a dazzle of sun- 
light to set you in — like a saint in an aureole. 

(201) 



202 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

How do you feel ? Do not be frightened. You 
arc not ready for your apotheosis; and I am 
no high priestess. Besides, in a breath you 
will seem to yourself never to have been other 
than the grand creature I have made you. You 
know that vital quality of us mortals that makes 
us feel we are greater than anything that comes 
to us. 

**We feel that we are greater than we 
know.^* 

Just to think my last letter was from Venice. 
How long ago that seems, eons and eons I ^* I 
have lived so much since then.*^ Can I ever 
tell you the half? Ah! me! No, no. Only 
this impotent — I wish, oh ! how I wish I could ! 

I have ransacked ** ancient Padua,*' think- 
ing of exiled Romeo. Saw the great wooden 
horse of Danatello, that stands in the largest 
hall in Europe; holds sixteen men and is taken 
to pieces, carried down into the street, and put 
together again and used in procession on fete 
occasions. *^ Think of that Master Brook!*' 
It is really a splendid, spirited-looking creature. 
Did any of your traveled friends ever tell you 
about it ? I saw also, besides *^ the thousand 
things** I must omit, Goethe*s palm tree, the 
one he made use of in his theory of the Meta- 



LUCERNE, 203 

morphoses of Plants. The tree remains and 
flourishes* The man — ;where is he ? ** Lights 
give us more light/* were his last words* I 
think he has found it. From Padua, I hastened 
to Verona. Such a beautiful old city ! There 
I sought out Juliet's tomb, in the old monastery- 
hid away in its garden. And I found the house 
of the Capulets, and stood in its court and 
gazed with eager interest at that queer hat 
carved on its shield, placed above the entrance 
in the wall. This repeated itself on columns 
and in different places, giving evidence of the 
prominent position of the family. I was quite 
unprepared to find the situation of Verona so 
picturesque, and one feature I have not seen 
elsewhere, that of its innumerable mills on wheels 
to be run into and out of *^the rapid Adige/* 
Just fancy a line of these queer-looking structures 
some distance from shore, working away with 
all the impetuosity that swift current can give, 
and as steadily as is their wont ! But every- 
thing about that Shakespeare-famed city is 
unique and fascinating. Thence to Milan, 
where I lingered a week, but was not specially 
impressed. The Cathedral is all that descriptions 
and pictures make it, and the Milanese claim 
for it, **the eighth wonder of the world.*' I 



204 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

climbed to its tip-top perch^ and every step re- 
vealed some marvel of architecture and sculp- 
ture. The workmanship is amazing. You 
have read all about it, and doubtless think you 
have a very good idea of it ; but just come and 
stand before it and haunt it, and you will despair 
of ever taking in the half of its details! No 
two ornaments or points are alike I I quickly 
gave up, and looked away from it to the ever- 
lasting hills, too far away to force me to mathe- 
matical calculations. Have you read of the 
Grand Victor Emanuel Gallery, that ** finest ar- 
cade in the world,** in shape like a cross, with an 
octagon center surmounted by a dome, and paved 
with beautiful mosaic, where the finest shops 
are, and which is the fashionable promenade, lit 
by 2,000 gas-lights, and — goodness I if I go on, 
you will think I am preparing to rival Badeker 
and get up a guide-book. Well, I just want 
you to know my apartments were on it, and I 
was quartered equal to a queen ! Everything 
was gold and glitter, and grandeur and gorgeous- 
ness. And I took to it as naturally as a lark to 
the highest regions of air ! Of course, I saw 
all the libraries, picture galleries, strange old 
churches, etc., and drove at the fashionable hour 
on the Corso, watching the gay and festive 



LUCERNE, 205 

throngs in carriages, on horseback and afoot, 
this last most characteristic feature, perhaps, of 
all I saw. The fair dames in superb toilets 
holding levees in their splendid equipages! I 
enjoyed the spectacle. Then I sped away to 
the Italian lakes. Guess how my heart beat at 
the prospect of seeing those romantic sheets of 
water. That was a summerland, indeed, with 
tideless summer seas and tropical blooms and 
sounds and sights! Nightingales sang there 
night and day* Magnolias, oleanders, mimo- 
sas and myrtles were in full bloom, and the sun 
shone with almost pitiless fervor. I saw them 
all in their length and breadth. I haunted their 
shores and floated over their lovely green waters. 
And I fell in love with that bijou, Lake Lugano. 
Next to our own Lake George, it is the most 
exquisite sheet of water I have ever seen, and I 
have seen so many ! 

Presently, almost before I knew, it was 
**time to move on.*^ That is a hardship some- 
times. But it was Switzerland that was await- 
ing me, and a brand-new experience. You 
know how it must have been — ^the heart-break- 
ing at the leaving, and yet springing forward 
with a bound of eagerness to the unknown. You 
must have experienced that mixed feeling! 



206 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

What have I not seen and felt in this wonder- 
land ! Unspeakable Switzerland ! Every place 
has its own special exceeding beauty or gran- 
deur, or both. I came into it from Qhiavenna, 
by the Val Bregaglia and Maloja Pass, my first 
halt being at San Moritz, in the Upper Enga- 
dine. This is a fashionable watering-place, in 
the midst of the most glorious mountain and 
lake scenery, and is a good point from which to 
make excursions. I think I shall only tell you 
of the one I am the proudest of. It was my 
grand climb. First, a drive of seventeen miles 
to the Bernina Hospice, among the Bernina 
Alps, and from there a walk of two and a quar- 
ter hours, up, up, to heights far above the tree 
line, into the vast solitudes of barren rock and 
eternal snows — 7,800 feet high. Behold me, 
with alpenstock, giving all my energy and en- 
thusiasm to it ; sometimes by pretty lakes and 
prettier tarns — "those wee lakes that looked 
like tears dropped in the clefts of lofty moun- 
tains *t* over bridges spanning turbulent streams ; 
across narrow ledges of rock and snow; up cliffs 
that made me wish I was a kid or a chamois; 
and ever upward, till my breath was mere 
gasping! At last I was there, at the Sassal 
Massone, perched on a shelf in the mountain- 



LUCERNE. 207 

side, looking on such a spectacle as I may never 
see again — ^the Palu Glacier, sweeping down 
between two immense mountains, on my right; 
opposite, mountains ; to the left, a lovely valley, 
clothed in the richest, tenderest verdure, and 
holding an exquisite lake in its bosom* I gazed 
and shut my eyes, and gazed and shut them 
again and again. This Sassal Massone is a 
little refreshment-house cut into the solid rock 
on a shelf or terrace, with a seat for the weary 
climber to rest on while taking in the sublime 
views. 

Thus sitting, a chance turn of my head 
showed rows of the edelweiss, that lovely, 
downy, little Alpine flower, just back and a 
little above me, growing right out of the snow. 
I sprang up to look at them, and then went to 
the keeper of the rude hostelry to buy some. 
He said they were not for sale; that he kept 
them for tourists to see ; but that he would pro- 
vide me a guide to take me to great fields of 
them not so very far away. The guide came — 
the most loutish, stupid-looking creature a mis- 
sion ever was intrusted to. We tramped through 
the snow, kept to our feet by our alpenstocks 
and to the goal by our excitement. It was in- 
deed a vast field of snow, unbroken but by the 



208 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

quantities of the curious little flowers, which 
seemed cut out of felt — white, but not snow- 
white ; just the tinge of common felt* The petals 
radiated from a pretty center, a cluster of delicate, 
palish-gold-colored flowers. The guide looked 
from them to us and from us to them, then 
smiled, stepped back and bowed — awkwardly, 
to be sure — for us to pluck for ourselves. He 
was instantaneously transformed from the stolid 
clodhopper I had thought him to be — ^not to a 
god, but a mortal with a beautiful soul. 

I gathered to my hearths content — all that 
I could carry on the return tramp. If only I 
could have brought away the mountain-side 
with them ! The mere thought made me gasp. 
With hands full and head and heart fuller, full 
to their utmost, I turned away and ** came down 
from the mountains.*' I saw three grand gla- 
ciers that day; walked to the foot of one, and 
stood gazing in fascination on its fissured walls 
of ice and its dangerously beautiful grotto, from 
which *^a glacier torrent'* was pouring forth. 
Everywhere, except at the very highest points, 
multitudes of the loveliest wild flowers were 
blooming I Is not that a day to be set apart in 
one's life? I am sure I shall never recall it 
without feeling myself a grander creature. 



LUCERNE, 209 

From San Moritz to Thusis by the Julier 
and Schyn Passes. All the routes have been 
planned to take in the finest if not most famil- 
iarly known scenery. These passes were an- 
other experience of the most varied wildness, 
grandeur, bareness and loveliness. First, the 
slow zigZdg of the diligence into the bleakest re- 
gions of grey cloven rocks, piled into **AIps 
upon Alps/* till they towered far up above the 
snow line; then great tortuous windings down 
into the heart of such luxuriant vegetation as is 
not surpassed, hardly equaled, by that of Ohio's 
fertile valleys and hills. Then — I would lend 
you my eyes if I could, just to have you realise 
what a panorama of sublime beauty Switzerland 
can give, but I have no words to picture it.. 
Thusis is situated at the entrance of the Via 
Mala, the famous gorge through which that im- 
petuous stripling, the young Rhine, rushes with 
such headlong recklessness. A wide and long- 
extended valley, surrounded by every kind of 
mountain and height, from knolls to snow peaks ; 
two rivers tearing in at one end, uniting and 
hurrying onward as the Rhine right through 
the center, and twenty towns dotting the dis- 
tances, with castles and churches perched in 
every romantic spot. Why, it seemed to me 



210 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

the earth was growing more beautiful and won- 
derful every moment. 

The ruins of the oldest castle in Switzer- 
land, on the summit of a spur of the Muttner- 
horn, a lofty, rounded mass of rock, partly cov- 
ered with trees and grass and flowers, partly 
showing only sheer rifts of limestone, rose just in 
front of my windows. I sat on my balcony and 
saw the moon rise among its crumbling towers 
sail slowly across and above them, and mount 
to the highest heavens; while below me a fine 
band played such music as was in perfect har- 
mony with that enchanting spectacle and my own 
mood. Next forenoon I drove the length of the 
Via Mala, and on my return left the carriage 
and climbed to that seductive height all alone, 
my companion begging off. No, not quite alone. 
I had some goats and kids for companions, and 
am gregarious enough to own I was glad of even 
them. They just looked at me with a mild cu- 
riosity, and nibbled on or clambered ahead or 
waited to let me pass. Perhaps — who Imows ? — 
a biped innovation was as pleasant to them as 
they were to her! The view at the top was all 
I thought it could be. And that is my descrip- 
tion in full. Is it not satisfactory ? 

There is a legend about this ruin that haunts 



LUCERNE. 'in 

me* The last lord of the castle blindfolded his 
horse and leaped from that fearful height to cer- 
tain and awful death. I have seen since I was 
there a picture by one of Switzerland's first art- 
ists representing this scene. No danger of my 
ever forgetting it now. Then I sped along that 
rampageous youngster's course for several hours, 
all aglow over the wonders it unrolled before 
me, till nightfall brought me to Ragatz, another 
fashionable watering-place. Its environs pos- 
sess, in addition to all I have heretofore enumer- 
ated in the way of mountains, water and vale, 
what is said to be the most curious and unique 
feature in this remarkable little commonwealth : 
a gorge in which hot springs are inclosed. Hav- 
ing seen it, I would not have missed it ** for any- 
thing,'' as my French teacher used to say. Im- 
agine an enormous fissure in a vast limestone 
ridge, a mountain; it might have been cloven 
there by Atlas in that f orepast when such giants 
were no fiction. The depth must be from 150 to 
200 feet; maybe more. Those awe-inspiring 
walls seem almost to meet ; for overhead they 
swerve in many places toward each other, so as 
to shut out the light ; in others they part to ad- 
mit gleams of sunshine and blue sky. Far below, 
a glacier stream, the Tamina, is rushing, roar- 



2\2 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

ingf throwing up clouds of spray, and wearing 
away now, as it has been wearing away for lo ! 
how many thousand years, that nof too solid rock. 

A wooden gallery runs along one side fol- 
lowing the sinuosities of the rock, and you have 
a walk of a quarter of a mile through this 
strange, weird, yes, appalling ** work of nature,**^ 
wrought by that foaming torrent, to the vaulted 
passage, ** dark as Erebus,'^ which leads to the 
springs* Niagara is not grander or more im- 
posing than this Plutonian gorge in its way. 
But, dear me, I will never get through if I try 
to tell you a tithe of what I have done and seen. 
For you see, there is the ascent of Rigi and 
ever so much else. Well, ^'the play will have 
to be cut.^' I went up Rigi in the cars, saw a 
sublime sunrise, and walked down on the other 
side to Kiissnacht ! Believe me, I will never do 
the like again. It was a four-hours' tramp, or 
rather slip and slide, stumble, stick, stagger. 
The way is always steep, and then it was slip- 
pery from the recent rains. I am just getting 
over the stiffness and soreness. No, I would 
not do it again for Rigi itself. But this Lucerne 
is just perfect loveliness, and I am getting ** re- 
stored" rapidly. 

And here I am ashamed of this long letter. 



LUCERNE» 213 

afraid of another sheets and have not said what 
I most wish to say. It is about your book. I 
am sure I shall like it, and hope you will stay 
at home and get it ready for the public, especially 
me. Yes, the title is good. I wish I was read- 
ing it this moment in print. I hope you have 
written to Miss B . Were you at the wed- 
ding of Miss S ? Tell me about it. But I 

must stop. I do not want to — . Good-bye. 

L. G. C. 

Lucerne, July 26, 1883. 





VIENNA* 



SHALL make a beginning, but have no 
idea when I shall reach the finis. But I 
thank you beforehand not to say, **and the 
longest yet/^ if it should be. All equipped and 
waiting for the opera hour in Vienna; a pale 
sunlight dropping from ** a lambent sky ;^* win- 
dows wide open, 

**'To let the outdoor gospels in;" 

an easy enough picture to make to the mind's 
eye, if you are so ** minded*** The opera hour 
is 6 o'clock. Is n't that primitive for the ** sec- 
ond Paris," as this metropolis is fondly called by 
many ? It strikes me it is absurdly so and hien 
incommodet as the French say. You see, din- 
ner is the midday meal all over Germany, This 
places the supper hour at 7.30 or 8, So one 
has to eat too often or not often enough; 
** something " before going and a hearty supper 
afterwards, or only the latter, at 10 or H, I 
do not like either way, but generally omit the 
first ; and then ! 

(214) 



VffiNNA. 2J5 

Your letter was waiting for me here on 
Saturday* This is Wednesday* I was *^ever 
so glad ^* to get it The one pleasure you can 
never know in its supremacy till you are **a 
bronzed wanderer in a foreign land/* is that of 
getting letters* I wish — how I wish! — every- 
body was as good a correspondent as I am* No 
matter how often, how brilliant or hoiif long 
their letters were, they would be *^more than 
welcome/* as the happy father said on No* I2*s 
advent in the family circle* That is the right 
spirit, even for a letter. But some people — hm I 
I can*t express them* 

Did you mean it? did you know it? your 
letter was so full of wise suggestions I put on 
my study-cap, ** and Frank Hazeldean sat down 
to think.** To be sure, I am doing a great 
deal — all I can. If I do not now, I never shall* 
I did not make much out of the ** brown study ** 
beyond that; and this* If I were Goethe, or 
any one that was going to be anybody, I would 
do as thoroughly as he* But to think at my 
age of going to the heart and bottom of things 
— how in vain ! What is left me but to skim 
over the surface like a bird over water, now and 
then dipping in ? And anyway, is not a clear, 
graphic, comprehensive superficiality — I am not 



216 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS» 

sure I can make you understand me — ^the next 
best thing to thoroughness? Have you not 
known people with that gift with whom it was 
a felicity to be thrown ? Felicity may not be — 
is not — such an ultimatum as beatitude, which 
is found only in the highest heights and deepest 
depths ; but think of the light, warmth, sparkle, 
enjoyment, of the middle realms of air ? Is that 
an excuse for my busy idleness ? Perhaps, Yet 
the deeper plunge of my wings comes oftener 
than you suspect, maybe. The wider knowl- 
edge of and the more intimate contact with the 
works of nature, and no less those of my 
fellow-men — ^these have been the gains I have 
most counted on. My brain ** burned with great 
ideas *^ equally among the towering ice-peaks 
and awe-inspiring glaciers of Zermatt, and in 
the presence of the wrecks of Paestum^s sublime 
temples. To look on such wonders of creation, 
be the work of divine or human hands, is to be 
driven inward, far within yourself, in search of 
the creative motive. If for myself, and my power 
of accomplishing, I am driven thereby into the 
depths of ** a profound despair,'^ my pride in and 
homage to the worthier workers are only the 
greater. But this is enormous egotism. You 
can have of me only what you take. You re- 



VffiNNA. 217 

member that complaint of Swedenborg to the 
angel: **l asked you for a fig, and you have 
given me a grape/* ** I gave you a fig, but you 
took a grape/' was the angel's reply. 

I shall try to do your hiddin^ in respect to 
Paris. I have not meant to do it in haste. 
Still, neither the lovely city nor ** its unknow- 
able, incomprehensible, original '' arouse my in- 
terest to a very fervid degree. When I have 
come to know both better, I may change. 

' J 8th. Don't you see you are in for a 
4iary? My hostess came in with cake and 
fruit, plums, pears, peaches and grapes. I 
must take some before going. Of course Eve 
listened to the voice of the charmer. She al- 
ways does, and always with the same result, 
does n't she ? 

The opera was one of Wagner's, ** Tristian 
and Isolde." The story belongs to the dim, 
misty regions of English history, mixed up with 
Irish in a way quite baffling to one so ignorant 
of the latter as I am. I wonder if you know 
the story. Before telling, I shall wait to hear. 
I may remind you that Wagner as a composer 
always had an idea or ideas to embody. If you 
have seen or heard — oh ! for a jolt to bring out 
the right word for witnessing an opera, which 



218 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

is both seen and heard — Tannhauser, you "will 
catch my meaning. It is a story of temptation, 
sin and repentance wrought out most power- 
fully in music of unfortunate love and its penalty. 
The heroine is a fine-looking woman, and a 
powerful actress, with a voice equal to Wagner^s 
requirements, which is saying a good deal ; but 
she lacked magnetism ! She did not once sweep 
me into forgetfulness, or impotency of criticism. 
Interpreting ideas through the highest science of 
music is a grand and glorious performance, but 
it is a fearful tax on the human voice. In 
Dresden, all the singers of his music but one 
sang as if their voices had been overstrained. 
Here they sing it as if they had mastered a dif- 
ficult task, but, like liberty, the price is eternal 
vigilance. The orchestral music, though, al- 
ways makes up for other deficiencies. I hardly 
see how it could be finer or more perfect. The 
house itself is faultlessly beautiful and comfort- 
able. This last feature is worth making a note 
of, for the Grand Opera House in Paris is 
stifling, the most unbreathable atmosphere to 
which I was ever subjected. 

The mise-en-scene here and all over Eu- 
rope leaves nothing to ask for. At home by 
half-past ten; let in by a concierge, who pro- 



VIENNA. 219 

vided us with a small was taper to light our- 
selves up to our apartments. There the post- 
opera collation was awaiting. Don^t you wish 
you had been one at it ? Would not that have 
been provocation to immense brilliancy ? Scin- 
tillant as Sirius — ^that would have been your 
role. 

Was it inexplicable that I did not want to 
get up this morning at all ? Yet I had to. 
Why? I think I have not told you. The 
object of my pilgrimage here is to have the 
treatment of the finest aurist in Europe. I am 
not over-sanguine, but hope for some benefit. 
Deafness is a very trying deficiency. I dread 
any increase, so I thought I ought to give my- 
self the chance of even partial ^* benefit.*^ The 
custom of ** specialists ^* is to receive the patients 
at their offices and there treat them. My hour 
is half-past nine a. m. Hence the loss of that 
delicious morning dawdle and drowse. 

Would you not like a peep into this magi- 
cian^s quarters ? They are what may be called 
** stunning/^ I can tell you. Every time I go 
into them I finger my ducats pensively and sigh, 
** Needless to ask ; we know who pays for the 
piper.^* First, a square ante-chamber, with fres- 
coed ceiling and pictures on the walls. I have 



220 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

not more than glanced at this. From this two 
doors, through which I have been passed ; one 
leading to a private reception-room, the other to 
the public. I go to the former, as I have my 
hour and am not to be kept waiting* It is an 
oblong room with green hangings on the walls 
and very dark, old oak furniture. There is a 
large cabinet, the glass doors lined with green 
silk. I have not seen what is in it. In one 
comer is a beautiful pedestal, on which is a 
bronze copy of that famous head of Homer in 
the Naples Museum. Between it and a door 
leading into the examining office is a Venetian 
mirror surrounded by small, rare paintings. 
There is a woman^s head that would haunt 
you for many a day could you see it. There 
are two handsome glass cases with tier upon 
tier of the bony structure of the ear mounted 
beautifully for inspection. In the examination- 
room, dark, crimson hangings, its ceiling an 
oval fresco of a blue, summer sky, flecked 
with fleecy films of clouds; and in the oval 
border at the ends four medallion portraits of 
eminent physicians, there is a book-case filled 
with fine editions of Shakespeare, Byron, Hum- 
bolt, Lessing, Goethe, etc., a cabinet of ebony 
inlaid with ivory, on which stands a bronze 



VIENNA, 221 

head of Hippocrates, statuettes, curious little 
clocks, etc. Another cabinet has some dainty 
bits o£ china, a pair of candlesticks of tortoise 
shell inlaid with ivory, and more of such things 
than would fill several sheets* On the walls 
are most excellent copies of Rembrandt's por- 
traits of himself and that ** wife Saskia*' he was 
so proud of. The frames of these are simply 
** works of art ** in wood carving, Two land- 
scapes by Zimmerman, the first time I have en- 
countered him out of the large and public 
galleries. The large public reception-room is 
fit for a palace ; the walls from ceiling to floor 
covered with pictures? tables, cabinets and 
chairs in ebony inlaid with ivory ; rare mirrors 
and china, etc. Now, I have not enumerated 
the half. What do you think of it ? Is it any 
wonder I and my ducats have a private confab 
over it ? 

From that interview this morning, still not 
much more than half awake and alert, we went 
to the Palace to see the ** cabinet of coins and 
antiques.'* The ** coins " always overwhelm me, 
so much time must be given to do anything with 
them, so I am disheartened. I passed soon to the 
** antiques.'' How your eyes would snap to 
find themselves gazing at the seal ring of Alaric, 



211 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

a large sapphire with a head in intaglio and a 
heavy setting looking like hammered gold. 
What a giant he must have been if the size of 
the ring did no injustice to the finger. And a 
large vase of Cleopatra^s, goId-gilt with a wide 
border of exquisite cameos, carvings and pre- 
cious gems, and the center a portrait of herself 
in ** jewels, rich jewels of the mine.** Also, an 
agate vase of twenty-nine and one-half inches 
in diameter, from the bridal treasure of Mary 
of Burgundy. Nothing interested me more 
than a bronze tablet, with a prohibition of the 
Bacchanalia, J 86 years before Christ. I made 
out a few words in the time I gave it. 

Yesterday morning I was at the Imperial 
Library, in the same edifice; the right name is 
the Imperial Berg. There I saw fragments of 
the Gospel of the Sixth Century on purple parch- 
ment with silver and gold letters ; of Genesis, 
of the Fourth; a map of the Roman roads, A. 
D. 160; Tasso*s own copy (manuscript) of 
*' Jerusalem Delivered,** and the prayer-book of 
Charles V. The poet was not sparing of 
erasures, and the prayer-book was pretty well 
thumbed. ** Men die but their works live after 
them — ** and what tales they do tell on them. 



VIENNA. 223 

I could write on and on^ filling up the in- 
terval since the last letter, but, to quote from an 
old Cincinnati physician, ** Enough is a 
plenty/' 

L. G. C 

Vienna, October J7, 1883. 





SIENA. 



FEBRUARY 22d, we took the train for 
Nice^ via Lyons and Marseilles. Spent 
the first night at the former and remained long 
enough next morning for a drive that took in 
the best part of the busy^ populous, prosperous 
city. It is ever so much larger than I was think- 
ing of, and its situation is one of extreme beauty. 
It is situated at the confluence of the Rhone and 
the Saone. Those lovely rivers wind pictur- 
esquely through it, spanned by handsome bridges 
— the Rhone by eight and the Saone by thirteen 
— dividing it into three parts, edged by broad 
quays and shaded by trees. The ranges of 
near hills are surmounted by fine residences, 
from which the loveliest views stretch out to 
misty mountains in the distance to the east, 
south and west. Nothing was wanting. 

From there to Avignon was simply ravish- 
ing. The route descended the valley of the 
Rhone, almost touching its lapping wavelets. 
We ** stopped off *^ at Avignon till the next train, 
which gave several hours — time enough to see 

(224) 



SENA. 225 

the special things I had in my mind* Of course^ 
it was a kind of pilgrimage to the shrine of 
Petrarch^s Laura. We saw the old Papal pal- 
ace, the home of the popes during that century 
(from 1309-77) of their residence there* It is an 
interesting but dirty old pile, being used now as a 
barracks — French soldiers, in common with their 
nation, being not especially clean and neat* The 
torture and the prison towers were interesting 
historically, but the beautiful faded frescoes on 
the walls of the popes* private chapel rather 
obliterated everything else* In one place, Pe- 
trarch's face shone forth in almost its original 
freshness* The hair was golden, and the dark 
hazel eyes looked straight out with a living look, 
as if the brain behind were busy over all they 
looked upon* Mounting a little higher, we peeped 
into the cathedral ; and higher still, we reached the 
Rocher des Doms, an abrupt eminence laid out 
in pleasant grounds, that command what is said 
to be one of the most beautiful prospects in 
France* 

Thence we drove to the Musee Calvet, 
which contains the Vemet gallery, pictures of 
the four generations of that family of artists* 
There was a portrait of Petrarch, over which 
hung one of Laura* In the garden attached is a 



226 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

simple, tasteful monument to Laura — a square 
pedestal surmounted by a globe, from which 
rises a cross with a wreath of flowers hung upon 
it. It is all of white marble. From there we 
continued our drive across the bridge, from 
which is seen an old bridge stretching about 
two-thirds of the way across the river, with 
crumbling walls and arches. One end is en- 
tirely gone. I am sure it is left just as it is 
because of its effectiveness as a feature in the 
view. 

Recrossing the bridge, we drove around 
the greater part of the city to see the fine old 
walls dating J 349, and still in an admirable 
state of preservation. 

The moon was just full, and rose as we 
shot out of the station for our sixty-five miles 
run to Marseilles. We remained at Marseilles 
for several hours next morning, and had the 
inevitable drive. It was along the quay, and I 
had my first glimpse of the ** blue Mediterranean.** 
It was an animated and thoroughly foreign 
spectacle; but the wind was high and biting, 
and the dust excessive, which made everything 
and everybody look dirty, even myself; so I 
was glad to settle down in our car for Nice. 

We were soon in the ** tropics,** olive or- 



SENA. 227 

chardst orange and lemon groves, almond trees 
in bloom, palm trees, etc., lining both sides of 
the track. 

At Cannes, an English lady, titled. Lady 
G , got into our carriage, and she was thor- 
oughly well-bred and agreeable. The train 
was crowded, and her husband had to go into 
another car, our ** carriage*' being for ladies 
only. No exception, even for **my lord.'* 

Lady G then pointed out Gladstone's villa 

and other beautiful places, and told us with a 
low, amused ripple of laughter of her gambling 
at Monte Carlo — it was very mild; she laid 
down a five-franc-piece, and lost; laid down 
another, and won ; ** so I quit even," she said. 
We went to different hotels. Her carriage and 
servants in livery were waiting for her; and 
ours, a special one sent from the hotel for just 
us two — was waiting for us. Another carriage 
from our hotel bore thither a handsome baron, 
with a ** love of a dog ;" and as we arrived at 
the same time, our arrival created something of 
a sensation ! It was a lovely hotel, right on the 
sea front, with a beautiful tropical garden in 
front — one wing ran out in front too; it was a 
two-story chalet. I had the corner room with 
windows taking in all that beautiful out-doors. 



228 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

I saw the moon rise. out of the sea; and at inter- 
vals all night, watched her course to her setting. 
Then I saw the magical clouds and lights of 
the dawn on the water, and Venus rise and 
hurry away to herald the sun coming up in all 
his glory. 

We went to hear Bishop Littlejohn, of 
Rhode Island, at the American Chapel in the 
forenoon; walked on the fashionable promenade 
in the early afternoon ; then a tram-drive to the 
cemetery to see Gambetta^s monument and 
grave. The cemetery is on a high hill whose 
top is a fine plateau. In the most conspicuous 
part is a large square railed in by an iron fence 
entirely concealed by floral devices. In the 
center of this square rises a lofty pyramid, com- 
posed of floral offerings of every conceivable de- 
vice, that were sent, it would seem, from the 
uttermost parts of the earth, to his funeral. 
Scattered round are other pyramids of the same. 
I think they said in Paris there were five hun- 
dred thousand floral offerings or tributes sent. 

Next day, we made an excursion to 
Monaco and Monte Carlo! The former has 
the royal palace atop of a height with a view 
that would make a lazarone of me! I am 
sure I could do nothing but sit in '*rapt 



SENA. 229 

ecstasy ** and gaze at the blue sky, through the 
sycamore branches, or the denser blue sea from 
the balustrades that run along the edge of the 
great square in front. There is a barrack also. 
You know Monaco is one of the smallest king- 
doms in the world. Its standing army numbers 
fifty soldiers ! I saw a number of the fine, amiable- 
looking fellows. They looked trim, immacu- 
late and soldierly, and as if they did not enjoy 
to the fullest extent their superabundant idle- 
ness. I can not attempt to describe the luxuri- 
ous and sumptuous magnificence of the royal 
apartments. A lovely drive of ten or twelve 
minutes took us thence to Monte Carlo. We 
went into the Casino, the great gambling palace, 
made the tour of its superb halls and eight large 
tables crowded with players of both sexes and 
all ages and ranks. It made me heart-sick in a 
very few minutes, and I sat apart watching the 
anomalous and painful spectacle till my com- 
panion wearied, too, which was not till she had 

tried her luck and like Lady G . *^come 

out even. We had a dream-drive home 
in the late afternoon. Next morning, a 
party of seven of us chartered a kind of coach 
for the celebrated Comichen drive over the old 
Roman route as far as Mentone. From there 



230 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

we went to Genoa by train, never out of sight 
of something of exquisite beauty. Then Genoa 
for two nights and a day, a ^* field day '^ of sight- 
seeing — ^four palaces, four churches, a drive and 
shopping! Pisa for another night and day; 
saw its incomparable group — ^Duomo, Cam- 
panile, Baptistery and Campo Santo. How 
little I had conceived of their magnificence and 
beauty ! From Pisa to Siena. Such a won- 
derful old place as this is ! We leave to-morrow 
for Naples, via Rome, for a day, to ** do it,** and 
return to Rome for Holy Week and Easter. I 
set aside three months for Italy, but Rome and 
Florence are a world in themselves for me. It 
snowed here yesterday; so it is very cold to-day. 
I have had views at intervals of snow-cov- 
ered mountains from Lyons here. I saw Mont 
Blanc distinctly — a colossal white specter, tow- 
ering grandly in the upper heavens — at one point 
on the way. They said it was about ninety 
miles distant. They are splendid to look at, but 
not to feel. This cold on my travels has cut 
me down so. I am too stupid to write a decent 

letter. 

L. G. C» 

Siena, March 4, t883. 



ROME, 



Bj^ LEFT Paris four weeks ago this morning;. 
^Ig) I cannot for the life of me remember if I 
have written to you in that time. Seems to me, 
though, I wrote from Siena. Anyhow, I will 
make that my starting point. From there we — 
the lady who is traveling with me is an Ohioan 

from G originally, and the sister of H. H. 

B , the historian of the tribes of the Pacific 

coast — ^went to Naples via here. We spent a 
night and a day driving about in the brilliant 
sunshine, seeing many points of interest by 
way of preparation for my return. Then on to 
Naples. It was raining hard and H o'clock 
at night when we reached it. Several days of 
promiscuous rain and shine, the former out of 
all proportion to the latter, rather disgusted me. 
I could not get to Capri, to Baja, to the top of 
Vesuvius. I had the views between showers 
of that world-renowned bay, and went in them 
to the churches, museums, and the lovely palace, 
Capodimonte. It both rained and snowed a little 
while I was inside the last. Of course you know 

(231) 



232 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

it is atop of one of the loftiest points about 

N f and that it is full of pictures and all 

kinds of lovely things. But there is one paint- 
ing there I think you may not have heard of — 
Michael Angelo kissing the hand of his dead 
friend, Vittoria Colonna. You remember he 
once afterwards regretted he had not kissed her 
brow or lips. This is a grand picture, the 
figures life-size. Vittoria lies shrouded in a rich 
white satin robe, confined about her feet with 
laurel branches. The face has a worn look — 
that of 

"long disquiet 
Merged in rest." 

Angelo is bending down, with his lips touching 
her folded hands and his countenance knotted 
with grief and the heavy sense of loss. Ah I no 
future would ever be to him like the past I I 
felt his loss like my own; and the tears sprang 
quick and blinding. This was the only picture 
of them all I brought away with me. At the 
Museum, the Pompeian frescoes, the Farnese 
Hercules Bull, made the deepest impression. 
One of the frescoes, a Nereid on the back of a 
sea panther, I tried to get a photograph of, but 
failed. You know Donneker^s Ariadne? I 
think he must have got the idea from this, and 



ROME. 233 

as I have it in ivory — the most perfect little 
gem — I wanted this too. I saw a very curious 
and interesting spectacle in one of the churches^ 
St. Dominico, in the sacristy : the coffin of the 
Marchese di Pescara^ Vittoria Colonna^s hus- 
band. It was one of a number, ten of which 
contained the remains of kings and queens, 
placed around the walls just below the ceiling. 
They had faded scarlet covers. On his was an 
inscription by Aristo; above it, his portrait; at 
one end, his banner; and attached to the side, 
his sword. Everything concerning that noble 
woman is of the deepest interest to me; so I 
made a pilgrimage to see the portrait and coffin 
of the lover-husband she has embalmed in her 
verses. 

The rain continuing, we ** broke up camp,** 
and went to Pompeii. It poured for a day and 
a half there; and then the sun burst forth and I 
spent all Sunday in that exhumed city. Impossi- 
ble to convey the slightest idea of the fascination 
of it. Come and try it for yourself. At night Vesu- 
vius added the strange and rather terror-inspir- 
ing charm of its glowing crater, slow-flowing 
lava and brilliant column of smoke rising far 
aloft. It kept me going to my window all night. 
FU tell you about it some day. Next to La Cava, 



234 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

a beautiful town in a vale surrounded by chains 
of the most picturesque mountain peaks. There 
it rained and snowed again — snowed heavily on 
the mountain tops. All the vale was dressed 
in the ** living green ** of mid-spring. The snow 
in it was a March flurry. From there we had 
a lovely drive — a Cornichean drive — around 
the headlands of the sea to Amalfi. Read Long- 
fellow's poem '^Amalfi.'* I clambered to the 
Convent (now a hotel) for the view and lunch. 
Both were incomparable. Read the poem 
copied in the Guest-book and shown with great 
pride, and left as Eve left Paradise, ** with re- 
luctant steps and slow.'' Next day, Paestum ! 
Oh ! those inexpressible ruins ! What an ele- 
ment ^worship has been in the life of our race. 
I never realized this more deeply than in those 
majestic old temples. I gathered acanthus from 
crevices in the crumbling columns and stones of 
the floors. Next day Castellamare and Sor- 
rento, with another ideal drive between them. 
At the latter, I went to the finest orange grove 
in that district, and gathered oranges from the 
trees for myself. Ah I that was fruit fit for the 
gods. Naples again and rain. I waited two 
more days for Capri in vain. Spent them at 
the Museum, where I fell in love again — 



ROME* 235 

and this time with youth and beauty, a bronze 
statuette of Narcissus listening to Echo* If I 
gave myself leave how / could ra.ve about it. 
I got every photograph I could find and mean 
to have a copy if I can find one* It was found 
in Pompeii* What lovers of beauty peopled 
that ill-fated city* 

I have been here since Saturday* Sun- 
day was Palm Sunday at St* Peter^s* I 
went* The grand edifice did not disappoint* 
The ceremonies and music did* Shall I send 
you a leaf of the consecrated palm ? Monday 
was spent in getting settled. Tuesday, the 
Albani Villa* To-day, the Sistine Chapel and 
Raphael's Transfiguration at the Vatican ; and 
Guidons Aurora at the Rospigliosi Palace. 

Have I ever told you how I wished 
with a passionate intensity to spend a full 
winter in Rome? and now I am having the 
fulfillment* Almost I can believe Goethe, 
** Time brings the fulfilment of what is passion- 
ately longed for when we are young.*' Those 
are not his words perhaps, but they convey his 
idea. When I first read them twenty or twenty- 
five years ago, I did not agree with him. 
Curious that the flight of time which has made 
me reject faith in the principle of compensation, 
should make me a believer in that. 



236 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

''Whoever/* says Chateaubriand, *'has 
nothing else left in life should come to Rome to 
live ; there he will find for society a land which 
will nourish his reflections, walks which will 
always tell him something new/* Read 
again what Hawthorne says in *^ The Marble 
Faun/* that after one has lived in Rome and 
talked it and left it, he is astonished to find his 
heartstrings have mysteriously attached them- 
selves to it and are drawing him thitherward 
again, as if it were more familiar — more inti- 
mately his home than even the spot where he 
was bom.** Do you know I feel every word of 
this! K you want to have a touch of this 
Roman fever read, stopping to make pictures to 
your mind*s eye as you read ''The Marble 
Faun,** Hans Andersen*s " Improvisatore,** 
Storey*s " Robe di Roma/* and Ouida*s "Ari- 
adne/* This last you must give me your 
opinion of. I have been to all the places she 
names; almost to all each names. The 
weather is mild, generally sunshine to make 
one think the worship of that luminary not the 
worst the world has ever known. 

Spring flowers are thick everywhere. 
Yesterday brought such a clever letter from 



ROME. 237 

Miss D — — . I think I must quote a bit or 
two to give you ** a taste of her quality/' 

I had sent some Xmas souvenirs to her 
and her sisters* Of the younger two — very 
young — she said: **You should have seen 

D and M when they told their friends, 

* My cousin in Paris sent me this/ with the air of 
being thankful that they were not as other little 
girls that had no cousin in Paris/' 

L. G. C* 

Rome, March 19, J883. 





ROME, 



jE spent a day at Amalfi. From La 
Cava^ a pretty town in an extensive 
vale shut in with the most picturesque chains 
of mountains, we took an open carriage for 
the three hours' drive. It soon struck the sea- 
coast and wound all the rest of the way around 
its headlands, doubling its promontories, retreat- 
ing into its bays and inlets and dropping almost 
to the water's edge, and presently mounting up- 
ward into almost Alpine heights* The head- 
lands and cliffs were frequently broken into 
every imaginable form of rock sculpture — 
columns, cones, pyramids, grottoes and castel- 
lated walls of defense and fantastic ruins. The 
sea beat the shore, here, a sheer precipice, and 
there a white sanded beach, then rolled away a 
tangled mass of the most exquisite and in- 
numerable shades of blue, green, purple, black, 
gold and silver. The coast stretched around in 
a vast semi-circle of silver till it lost itself in the 
misty horizon. Little villages lay at our feet, 
ran up the hill-sides with their terraces of 

(238) 



ROME. 23? 

orange-groves, or clung to the cliffs far over- 
head like martins' nests in winter* A long 
range of snow-capped mountains reared them- 
selves above Salerno, and sent us an icy blast 
now and then. There had been quite a snow 
the day before. We rattled up to our ** albergo *^ 
at eleven. This was at the foot of the hill ; our 
destination was an old monastery of the Ca- 
pucins, now a hotel, of which this was the 
porter's lodge. The same proprietor conducts 
both. He met us with the welcome accorded 
to favored guests, and gave us a guide, and we 
were off at once. 

The practical should not be neglected en- 
tirely for the picturesque, so, we ** took in ** on 
our way, a macaroni factory. We saw the 
flour, then the kneading, last the moulding. 
The kneading is quite peculiar, and a long and 
fatiguing part. There is a flat, round table 
with a beam that works on and around it, the 
dough being placed between. Six youths of 
eighteen or twenty were on the end and worked 
it up and down and back and forth. The 
whole had a joint resemblance to a grist-mill 
and the game of see-sawing. The boys were 
bare-legged and looked very clean and cool. 
When the dough is sufficiently kneaded, it is 



240 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

transferred to the mould. This is a cylindrical- 
shaped machine, filled with the small cylinders 
through which the dough is forced to convert it 
into the little tubes with which we are so 
familiar. The dough is placed on one end and the 
pressure applied, which forces it through. The 
several squads of workmen are very eager to 
show off at their best, their palms tingling, no 
doubt, in expectation of the accustomed fee. 

Leaving this factory, we began climbing 
steps. The monastery is the hollow of a rock, 
which rises abruptly from the sea, has cloisters, 
a veranda, a** terrace-walk,^* a kind of collonade, 
and from innumerable points the most charming 
views. Longfellow had been there ahead of 
me, for which I ** returned thanks ** on finding 
in the guest-book his poem ^*Amalfi.** As I read 
it my eyes went wandering over all therein so 
felicitously described. The salon was the re- 
fectory of the monks, and each window, glazed 
to the floor, opened on a veranda. I shut my- 
self out on one, and, leaning on its solid stone 
balustrade, gave myself up to the dreamy fas- 
cination of the ^^ enchanted land.'* Do read 
the poem, and try to picture each feature with 
your mind's eye. The description is perfect. 
After lingering till the very last moment, we 



ROME. 241 

found our guide, and took another route to 
the albergo, where we had left our carriage. 

Whether the descent to Avernus is easy or 
not depends upon the grade of descent. That 
was not many degrees removed from ** sheer.^* 
Believe me, it was not ** easy.*' It dropped us 
on the beach, and the *^ white-caps '' gave us 
close chase here and there. Nothing to com- 
pare, though, to that of a battalion of little beg- 
gars who became so importunate, we had to 
turn our umbrellas into weapons of both defense 
and attack, whereupon they yelled and shouted 
with laughter. So we parted ** merry foes,*' if 
neither side could boast a triumph. 

The earth never saw a more perfect morn- 
ing than the following. That was to be our 
Paestum day. Our host, a number of coun- 
trymen and countrywomen, even the station 
porter who carried our lunch basket to a car- 
riage on the train which was to take us part of 
the way — one and all exclaimed : ** How for- 
tunate you are ! You could not have a more 
splendid day to see the ruins.*' Fourteen miles 
by rail and then a carriage again for a drive 
of two and a half hours. The sea was 
** radiantly beautitui,** a wide expanse of flash- 
ing wavelets. Leaving it, the route crossed 



242 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

marshy plains^ occasionally dotted with small 
herds of buffaloes and other cattle* The moun- 
tains kept along with us, gradually diminishing 
in height until they sank into the low coast* 
After awhile the first glimpse of the temples* 
That was a sensation ! It is said of these tem- 
ples that they were built in the ancient Greek 
style, and are, with the exception of those at 
Athens, the finest existing monuments of the 
kind* The temple of Neptune is the largest 
and most beautiful of the three* Its magnitude, 
massiveness and grandeur, added to the purpose 
for which it was erected — ^the worship of a 
deity — make it the most imposing ruin I have 
seen. This last makes the wide differenee be- 
tween it and the Coliseum, for which, had it 
that consecration, there would be no words* I 
wandered round, through it, gathered wild 
acanthus from crevices in its columns and clefts 
in its floor ; gazed at the near sea at one end, 
passing an arm round one of its mighty sym- 
metrical columns, not encircling it, you may be 
sure, as the diameter is seven and a half feet ; 
followed the slow grazing of sheep on those 
once-sacred grounds ; sat down on the broken 
and half-buried steps inside, and looked up at 



^ 




ROME. 243 

the intense blue of Italy's noon-day sky; went 
to.different points around it to get every aspect of 

**That noble wreck of rtiinous perfection,** 

and felt it impossible to sufficiently admire it. 
The Basilica near by is also of great magnitude^ 
but less and not so majestic in its proportions. 
The third is the Temple of Ceres. It is com- 
paratively small, but full of simple majesty. As 
I looked at these wonderful ruins, what most 
strangely moved me was an appreciation of the 
power and glory of man, and the recognition of 
what an element worship has been in the history 
of our race. 

Another was my Sorrento day, which 
meant one of those ideal drives called '*Cor- 
nichean,'' because of the road's projecting like a 
cornice from the headlands and precipitous hill- 
sides. In some places, the road is cut out of the 
solid rock; in others, it pierces it, forming beau- 
tiful arches, but always keeping the sea in view. 
This kept also Ischia, Capri and Vesuvius before 
the charmed gaze. No other point commands 
such fine and complete outlines of Vesuvius — its 
perfect gradual upward sweep and swell from 
the water's edge to its cone, with the ever-rising 
column of smoke. Part of this drive takes its 



244 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

way through orange and olive groves and mul- 
berry trees, figs, pomegranates and aloes, min- 
gled in delicious suggestiveness. The town 
itself is small, and situated amid these delightful 
groves, rather orchards, on rocks rising abruptly 
from the sea, with deep ravines on the other 
side. It was the birthplace of Tasso ; and it is 
said, the house in which he was born and the 
rock on which it stood have been swallowed up 
by the sea, and that the ruins are still visible 
beneath its clear blue waters. Nearly the entire 
sea-front is occupied by hotels, situated in gar- 
dens, with steps descending to the sea; and 
bathing establishments commanding magnificent 
views. We visited its shops, celebrated for their 
inlaid and carved wooden work and silks. 

My second trial of Naples was as unsatis- 
factory as the first. It rained in torrents, and 
then I ^^gave up in despair.^* The trip from 
Naples back to Rome almost made me forget 
my grievance. It was full of historic interest 
and association. We passed ** ancient Capua,^' 
where Spartacus led in the war of the gladiators. 
Just this side of it is a district so productive it 
yields two crops of grain and one of hay in the 
same season. We had a splendid view of the 
celebrated monastery of Monte Casino^ situated 



ROME. 245 

on the top of a lofty hill. It is founded on the 
site of an ancient temple of Apollo, to which 
Dante alludes in his ^^Paradiso/' Thomas 
Aquinas was educated there. Varro^s villa was 
near, and it is to one of its abbots that the world 
is indebted for the preservation of his works. Its 
library is celebrated for its manuscripts, and 
some of them suggested to Dante his great 
works. In sight was Aquino, the birthplace of 
both Thomas Aquinas and Juvenal. 

Rome. Here, in the ** Eternal City.** Every 
day is one to be chronicled. The day after I 
came was Palm Sunday. I went to St. Peter's 
to see both it and the ceremonies of the distribu- 
tion of consecrated palms. I will not describe 
St. Peter's. Had I not already seen Westmin- 
ster Abbey, St. PauFs and all the other most 
celebrated English cathedrals, no doubt the im- 
pression would have been overwhelming. The 
ceremonies were very unimposing; the music 
was not extraordinary; high mass was per- 
formed in one of the chapels, which dwarfed it 
to a very commonplace performance; and the 
distribution of palms was done by children, poor, 
forlom-Iooking friars and licensed peddlers, the 
consecration having been previously done by 
one of the cardinals. 



246 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

While the services were being performed in 
the chapel, people were walking and rambling 
all over the rest of the vast temple, and unless 
quite close to it, might have been quite unaware 
that anything was going on within* As no seats 
were provided, I went out and joined the ram- 
blers. Presently I came upon the bronze statue 
of St. Peter, the toes of which are being worn 
away by the kisses of the devout. I found a 
seat and sat down to look on. Every class and 
grade was represented, from prince and princess 
to pauper and villain, the former using their 
dainty perfumed handkerchiefs to wipe a spot 
before touching their lips to it ; the latter, their 
ragged and tainted sleeves. One young priest 
wiped the side of the foot and kissed it, instead 
of the much-imposed-upon toes. 

To the end of ''Holy Week,*' I devoted 
myself to seeing its various services. Each 
church has its special services. In that of St. 
ApoUonari, the washing and kissing the feet of 
the disciples is done by a cardinal. I waited 
through a prolonged service of nearly four hours 
to witness it. There were thirteen youthful 
priests seated in a row on a bench raised two 
steps above the floor for the greater convenience 
of the rather too fat father. Each in succession 



ROME, 247 

thrust out a bare foot as he knelt, then washed, 
wiped, and, so far as I could see, gave an honest 
kiss. There was a crimson satin cushion for 
him to kneel on, which, however, the attending 
priests forgot to move along for him, so he had 
to use the bare floor. I was suspicious enough 
to think the omission was intentional* AH his 
gorgeous vestments were removed while he was 
doing this, and he looked a very plain, humble 
creature indeed. 

In another was high mass and the showing 
of part of the cross to which Christ was 
bound to be scourged. This church is opened 
but the once in the year, and then only to 
ladies. No man can enter under pain of ex- 
communication. The other part of the cross is 
in Jerusalem. I urged a very agreeable elderly 
English lady to go to see it. For reply, she 
looked at me with a twinkle in her shrewd 
eyes, and said : ** I am not going to spend my 
time in any such tomfoolery as that.*' What 
a homelike sound her unvarnished English 
had! 

In yet another there was a grand ceremony 
of showing the heads of St. Peter and St. 
Paul — 2L ghastly spectacle at best. But the 
glory has departed from Catholicism in Rome. 



248 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

'*HoIy Week^* is a very tame period now-a- 
days. One could be here and not hear of it. 
Indeed^ it was with great difficulty that we could 
get any accurate information of its program. In 
only one church was there a jam. The pope 
never shows himself; his seclusion is said to be 
absolute. All of the grandest spectacles and 
ceremonies are omitted, so **HoIy Week*^ is 
rapidly ceasing to be an attraction. 

We had a delightful drive on the Via 
Appia, that old Roman road, built three hun- 
dred and twelve years before Christ, that even 
to-day, is called the ** queen of roads.** This is 
the finest of the near excursions in the Cam- 
pagna, the ruins of the aquaducts, mountains 
and villages, while the remains of ancient 
tombs on each side of the road are a unique and 
singularly fascinating feature. We took it in to 
visit the catacombs of St. Callistus ; the tomb of 
CaecilliaMetella ; the grotto and grove of Egeria. 
Stopping at the Catacombs, we were provided 
with wax tapers and guides and plunged down 
a precipitous stairway, and in a moment would 
have been plunged in Plutonian darkness but 
for these little lights that only served **to make 
darkness more visible.** Next came threading 
our way through narrow, tortuous passages^ 



ROME, 249 

single file, coming occasionally to tombs of 
some extent, containing the bodies of popes, 
saints and ** other people/* In several of these 
were paintings, the subjects of which were still 
quite easily made out. Some of the decorative 
inscriptions date as far back as the fourth cen- 
tury, and the frescoes to the seventh and eighth. 
In one chamber are two sarcophagi still con- 
taining the skeletons of the deceased, which are 
seen through a glass cover ; one looking like a 
mummy, the other very much crumbled. The 
guide hurried us, so the visit was rather con- 
fusing, and I came out. The tomb of Caecillia 
Metella was a fascination to me I was scarcely 
prepared for, notwithstanding my remembrance 
of Childe Harold*s famous description. To 
reach the Grotto of Egeria, we had to take a 
walk through some fields, and descend a hill 
into a ravine through which a little brook, the 
Almo, flows in an artificial channel. The 
Grotto is not large, but very beautiful, draped 
with ivy over the entire arch of the opening. 
On the wall facing the entrance is a mutilated 
statue. The fountain bursts from the wall to 
the right of it about four or five feet from 
the floor. A peasant was filling his vessels 
from it and he gave us a drink. It was clear. 



250 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

cool and of pleasant flavor. Thence a f^irther 
walk along the brook and the ascent of not a 
very high hill, led to a grove of thick and strik- 
ing ilex trees. They are of great size and ever- 
green. I went under every tree to be sure 
I did not miss that at whose roots Numa 
learned his lessons of wisdom. 

** Egefia, sweet creation, 
Whatsoever thy birth, 
Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.** 

L. G. C. 

Rome, April 4, J883. 




ROME. 



^ OU see you did right about the address^ 
^^' sending the letter to care of Paris banker. 



I have it, and it came ** on time/' good time, not 
loitering by the way or flying off at a tangent. 
The one point I object to is the soft rebuke to 
me for not having specified an address. I had 
given you all that I expected to. It is too much 
of a risk to change my address with the changes 
of place of such a vagrant. Now^ stick to H. 
& Co., etc., till I write you to do otherwise. 
You will be a sharp, yes, pre-destinated fault- 
finder if you can hook a grumble on that. I 
defy you. Thanks for your appreciation of the 
letter ! I am sure I did not mean anything so 
extraordinary. You say so many pleasant 
things, I cannot ignore them, as is my wont. I 
hope you are like Lady Geraldine, who 

** Said^uch good things natural. 
As if she always thought them.** 

Anyhow, it is wonderfully exhilarating to 

(250 



252 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

feel I have put out the Bermuda burner. Her 
scintillations were vastly oppressive. 

I have recently been reveling in Guercino^s 
fresco of Aurora, widely different from Guidons 
famous one, but I think I like it quite as much. 
Aurora herself is the central figure, a lovely, 
radiant creature embodying all the glimmer, glow 
and glamor of the dawn, seated in her car drawn 
by two splendid steeds, mottled with the dusk they 
were scattering and the light they were herald- 
ing. She was dropping flowers as she sped 
onward; a lovely cherub hovered in the air 
before stretching chaplets of exquisite flowers 
toward her; another, nestling in the cloudy 
folds of her drapery behind, looked over the 
edge of the car right into my eyes with his that 
seemed just as living. Do not tell on me ; but 
I make rosebuds of my lips at him every time 
we catch each other^s eyes, and he seems to en- 
joy the pantomine. Just in front of the horses^ 
heads, the earliest hours, bewitching young 
maidens, are putting out the stars, each with ex- 
tended forefinger and^thumb, flashing lightly up 
to the pretty sparks. It looks the most fas- 
cinating *^ task to do.*' You cannot help feeling 
a quiver in your own fingers to try it. Away 
ahead of all a bat is flying from the coming 



ROME. 253 

light. You think in a flash of that beautiful 
song: 

** Come into the garden, Maud, 
The black bat, Night, is fled.'* 

And now the quiver in my finger is gone : 

I have put out that transcendant Star that 
made a **' vexed Bermoothes *' of ine I 

And I hope Guercina^s manes will take no 
offense at this association of ideas I 

Ah ! this imperial Rome — ^this unapproach- 
able queen of the earth— every day I am more 
and more overcome by '*the toils of her beauty *' 
and enchantments. The magic of yesterday is 
lost in that of to-day; and for that of to-morrow 
I shall be dumb, having no words to express 
it. I wonder how anyone can ever get free 
from her wonderful fetters forged of everything 
that adds charm to life. From the deep blue of 
its sky^the crystalline dazzle of its atmosphere, 
the unutterable fusion ** of all the hues of all the 
earth/* and the varied outline of hill and vale 
and mount and wide-spread campagna — all this, 
just the mere outside, the physical Rome, to her 
treasures of myths, history, etc., everything you 
know, why attempt to enumerate ? She is in 
everything — " Mistress of the World. ** I, for 
one, am her willingest, lealest, lovingest sub- 



254 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

ject or slave, as you will. It seems to me at 
times as if of all I have ever known there is 
nothing very worthy that has not some associ- 
ations with her. Living within her walls 
brings out all that was written long ago on the 
memory, but grown from the lapse of time and 
the swift succession of experiences into an ** in- 
visible writing/* as it were. Yes, brings it out 
just as heat will bring that out. At every turn 
there is a great name, or some great monument 
of the mighty dead, and as you pause to look 
you ponder and remember what made the 
name great, who built the great monument, 
who indeed were the mighty dead ! Sometimes 
you know so much it is a kind of intoxicating 
joy. Oh! yes; many times — most times of 
course, you know so little. 

Do not think of being afraid or ashamed of 
admitting that. And then such a hunger and 
thirst as takes possession of you for knowledge, 
more knowledge, and yet more and more. The 
hunger and thirst of one perishing in the desert 
can but faintly shadow this forth. You think 
of that wonder-story of Eve, and the condemna- 
tion of her that has been a birth-right and 
grown with your orthodox growth, insensibly 
softens into sympathy. Presently you will find 



ROME. 255 

yourself admitting you too might have — yes, 
would have eaten that apple ! For it meant — 
knowledge, more knowledge ! I — I — am 
shocking you. Well, come thou also, and see 
if it be possible not to rave — 
• • • • • « • 

Are you in the mood for a tramp ? Come, 
let's be off. There is an old church — 5, OnofriOf 
on the slope of the Janiculus we ought to see. 
It is off to the west, no great distance from St. 
Peter's. The Salita. (or ascent) is steep. It is 
a warm, relaxing day — do not go too fast ; you 
will get into a perspiration if you do, and then 
you will have to take care of a breeze or a 
draught, and maybe catch cold, after all. Best 
not hurry. What is there up there, anyhow ? 
Why — ever so many things you would not 
miss for — anything. The quaintest old struc- 
ture dating from t439 — ahead of America ! and 
built in honor of Honophrius, whose story is 
disgusting to me; but let that go. Here is 
what I like better. Tasso lived there — I do not 
know how long — and died there. The whole 
place is far more full of, and fragrant with, his 
memory than that of the saint. The chapel in 
which he is buried has an immense affair in the 



256 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

way of a monument. It is not considered a 
work of ** high art/' so v/e shall not linger. 

Here in a chapel beside his is the tomb of 
Mezzofanti, the linguist; a simple slab in the 
floor, with the name and dates. I like it. Some- 
how I am in such a fever to go on. I do not 
care much for the pictures, though some have 
great names. Here — ^through this corridor. It 
leads to the '*ceIP' which Tasso occupied and 
in which he died. The custodian opens the 
door. I step in first, and involuntarily step 
back. Facing me is a full-length fresco portrait 
of the poet on the wall, so life-like, for the mo- 
ment the illusion is complete. In the center of 
the room is his bust. It was taken from the 
cast of his face in death; it is in a glass case. 
On the wall behind is another glass case, in 
which is an autograph letter, much tattered and 
torn and yellow with age. There are also his 
gloves, belt, etc. Ranged against the wall and 
protected by a railing are some large, square, 
leather-covered chairs, in frames of oak or wal- 
nut, with gold-gilt ornamentation. On another 
side, also in a large glass cabinet, is the coffin in 
which he was first interred. The ** cell ** itself 
is a good-sized room, with three windows, two 
commanding fine, extensive views. There is a 



ROME. 257 

garden attached, with a riven oak, the remains 
of that under which Tasso used to sit. We 
must go and sit there too. The walk lies be- 
tween large beds of growing vegetables. You 
see ahead your goal — a sharp little rise, from the 
side of which, half-way up, leans out remains of 
the tree. On one side is an old wall, rather a 
fragment; on the other, some steep, high steps, 
up which you know you will have to toil ** for 
the view.** Almost in a breath you are doing 
it, and — ugh I at every step a swarm of glancing 
lizards! I cry: **Look out for the lizards!** 
A lady ahead of me, already at the top, seated 
on a part of the wall, says coolly, if encourag- 
ingly: ** You know they are harmless. Why 
are you afraid ? ** I protest : ** I am not afraid ; 
but a lady carried one home with her yesterday 
in the folds of her sidrts, and it was there ever 
so long, I know. I do n*t wish the experience 
of a lizard for a vade mecum.** So I gather my 
skirts close and above my boot-tops, and do not 
misis the view indeed; but neither do I those 
legions in their brilliant uniform of green spotted 
with gold. And the view ! St. Peter*s on the 
left, still farther west; the city to the east, with 
its innumerable domes and spires ; and far be- 
yond, the beautiful mountains, some of their 



258 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

tops lost in the blue mist; and overhead, the 
broad arms of the oak, with their budding 
sprays. The warm air makes you feel a curious 
languor. You too sit down, feeling as if you 
were swooning into that noontide. Only a 
moment, though — those lizards! 

It is time to go. You make the circuit of 
the gnarled roots ; try to break off a bit of the 
riven edges, to find them as hard as adamant ; 
look up and sigh to find the leaves quite beyond 
reach ; then turn away for good and all. After 
a step or so, you find you are still clutching at 
your skirts I And as you reach the walk again, 
the other lady looks back and says meekly and 
deprecatingly, ^^I feel as if I had a thousand 
lizards on me.^^ One can forgive the answer- 
ing peal of laughter ; it is meriment only, not 
triumph. Then both gave wings to their feet ! 
Can you keep up ? I lay a wager you think 
you can 1 

Then another pro^. Do you not want 
to see that statue of Pompey, ** at whose base 
Great Caesar fell ? ^^ I have thought of it and 
of *^ Great Caesar^' many times. Indeed, it is 
one of the first thoughts when one sees the 
forttm. The statue is in the Palazzo Spada ; is 
in an immense ante-room. It needs to be, so 




a 

o 

^. 

-S 

'3 
O 



ROME. 259 

colossal is the statue. The workmanship is 
not considered very fine, but a strong interest 
must always attach to it on account of the as- 
sociation. The Palazzo is well situated, but it 
is near the Jew quarter called the Ghetto, and 
which is one of the characteristic sights. The 
street is narrow and tortuous, winding between 
houses six and seven stories high. The dwellers 
live literally out-doors, for even if inside the 
house, it is all wide open. The women are 
sitting, plying their various avocations, all seem- 
ing to be made up in some way of old, filthy 
clothes. The men are roving about just as 
busily. The children are at play so thick, there 
is some discretion required to enable one to 
thread his way without stepping on them. All 
are unkempt, unwashed, unattractive. Both 
smells and looks are revolting. Curiosity is 
soon satisfied. We hurry. Just ahead of us is 
the house of Rienzi, and near by a pretty little 
ruined temple called that of Vesta ; these are on 
the bank of the Tiber, and just at the foot, as 
it were, of the Palatine. Further on is the 
Protestant cemetery, where are buried Keats 
and the heart of Shelley. I have been to both. 
Fresh flowers were lying on the slab over the 
latter, while the grave of Keats was a mass of 



260 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

sweet violets. There is a neat hedge around it, 
and everything betokens kindly and constant 
care. Poor fellow ! His name is not written 
in water. Oh ! but I must break off. There 
is no end to all I wish I could tell you. I sym- 
pathize with you in the loss of that lovely 

woman, Mrs. D . Such a frail, tender life; 

the wonder is it has lasted so long. I had 
heard something of what you mention. Believe 

** It is better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all." 

Yes, the added verse is an immortality. 
May I indeed be there to hear, and all our 
** beautiful beloved ** who have gone before. You 

did not mention our dear one. Miss B . 

Do you know anything about her ? I have had 
no letter since I wrote to you, but so many of 
my letters do not reach me, I attach no blame 
to her, only I wish so much to hear. And will 
you make the race for governor ? H so, I will 
put up special prayers for your election. Then 
if you are elected, you will invite us two to visit 
you in that castle made without hands. Won*t 
you, please. Thanking you for all your kindly 
expressions and injunctions. 

L. G. C 

Rome, April 24, 1883. 




ROME, 



^N Rome still, but this is my last week. 
Were I to write many books, I could not 
get in the half of these wonder days in this 
queen city of the world. Yes, crowned so long 
ago, she still wears her royal diadem, and will 
wear it even as the old lines have it : 

" "While Rome stands, the world stands I" 

I have made the rounds of the churches, 
that of the galleries and museums, that of the 
villas and palaces, and finally that of the — 
shops. Take notice, that of the studios, is 
omitted ; not because it was not made, but be- 
cause it was confined to four. Such a four^ 
though! One can hardly realize any were 
left out. Be sure they will come in for 
ample mention. Will it seem sacrilegious 
to admit several hours of one afternoon were 
devoted to the Lateran, and the rest to 
watching the queen and ** lesser mortals ** com- 
ing home from the races ? Life is a very mixed 
sort of affair here — ** Motley^s the wear,'' in- 

(26 J) 



262 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS» 

indeed, and there's nothing to be done but ** Be- 
ing in Rome to do as Romans do/* The only- 
saving clause is I did not hurry through the 
church because of the carnival ahead. 

I began with the Piazza, di San Giovanni 
and its great obelisk — ** the largest in existence/' 
erected some fifteen hundred years ago by an 
Egyptian king in front of the Temple of the Sun, 
at Thebes. I felt that it had strayed ** far away 
from its native heath/' This is one of eleven 
obelisks brought from far eastern climes to 
grace this imperial city. The conqueror has a 
right to his spoils, I suppose, or this might be 
called vandalism* In the Baptistery, I saw the 
font of green basalt in which tradition says 
Constantine was baptized; and in its several 
chapels, Mosaic frescoes dating as far back as 
the Fifth century. They were more curious 
than beautiful, the figures representing Christ, 
apostles and saints, being decidedly of a carica- 
ture order. But one — flowers and birds on a 
gold ground, and another — golden arabesques 
on a blue ground — were more successful, in- 
deed beyond criticism. I lingered long at the 
foot of Santa Scala, **that flight of twenty- 
eight marble steps from the palace of Pilate at 
Jerusalem, which Christ is said to have ascended 



ROME. 263 

once/* and which are now set aside for the de- 
vout to ascend on their knees only. Many 
were doing it as I watched — men, women and 
children; old and young; rich and poor* To 
the looker-on it would seem rather an acrobatic 
feat, than an act of devotion. 

At five o'clock, we took our station on the 
wayside, one of a ** fam ** of carriages to wait 
for the coming of the royal cortege I In the 
intervals of waiting, I amused myself pointing 
out the coroneted equipages; they clustered 
around, their occupants apparently quite as 
eager as we to see the spectacle. Presently 
the chatter was hushed; eye-glasses of all 
kinds were adjusted ; everybody's gaze was on 
the Porta San Giovanni ; a flash of scarlet shot 
through its arch; the jockey who always pre- 
cedes the queen's carriage, itself with its four 
steeds, most richly caparisoned — the coachman 
and two footmen in the brilliant scarlet uniform 
of the queen; and inside, the beautiful, gracious, 
happy-looking Marguerite, a queen indeed, if 
looks and bearing count! She bowed so 
queenly, and smiled so womanly, right and 
left, I no longer wonder that her subjects wor- 
ship her. A number of gorgeous equipages 



264 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

followed ; the pageant swept on^ and the chill 
dusk hurried us home. 

Another church was the qaint old building 
of St. Onofrio^ on the Janiculus. It was reared 
to commemorate the piety of that saint, shown 
by a life of sixty years* hermitage in the desert, 
reducing himself to the level of the brute creation. 
I confess my pilgrimage to his shrine was not 
from sympathy with any such idea of piety. 
Nor has it much in the way of art. Three 
frescoes by Domenichino, and one fresco, faded 
and injured by retouching, by Leonardo da Vinci, 
are all worth speaking of. But Tasso is buried 
there, and the cell he occupied is shown, full of 
souvenirs of him. It is a large room, with three 
windows, and commands some fine views. The 
souvenirs are a fresco portrait of him, life-size 
and most startlingly life-like; a bust in wax, 
autograph letters, chairs, etc. There is a gar- 
den attached, in which is an oak under which 
he used to sit. The view from that ** coigne de 
vantage** is lovely. I seated myself where he 
might have sat to enjoy it. But — you have read 
about the pretty, glancing, green and gold lizards 
of Italy ! Well, it seemed to me there was one 
at least to every blade of grass, to every twig, 
where anything could glide or dangle. A lady 



ROME, 26S 

had carried one home with her the day before 
in the folds of her dress. I was not very ambi- 
tious to follow her example, so, perhaps very 
ingloriously, I decamped without delay. 

There is a set of churches, three in number, 
called ** The Three Churches of the Aventine/' 
from their being situated on that hill. Each has 
something of special interest, but I shall tell of 
only one, that of St. Sabrina. It contains Sas- 
soferrato^s masterpiece, the ** Madonna of the 
Rosary,^* a really beautiful and interesting pic- 
ture of this inexhaustible subject. The Madonna 
is giving a rosary to St. Dominicus, and the 
Christ-child another to St. Catherine; the latter 
with a childlike delight and benevolence in the 
givmgf most admirably rendered. On the pillar 
in the nave is a good-sized black bowlder, with 
the legend attached that it was hurled hj tlie 
devil at St. Dominicus when at prayer; such 
was his fury at this pious act. The flagstone 
on which the saint was kneeling was also 
shown. It has been removed from the floor 
and built into the wall. There is an orange 
tree in the garden, still vigorous and beautiful, 
planted by St. Dominicus. The good brothers 
make crosses and rosaries of its wood and sell 
them, thus ** making an honest penny/* We 



266 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

bought some and took them to the pope to be 
consecrated ! 

This prowling about old churches, hunting 
up celebrated pictures, relics, legends, etc., comes 
to be a great fascination. As they are counted 
by hundreds, one can always have a place to go. 
The trouble is to make a selection. And — it is 
just as perplexing which to tell you about. 
There is one more, though, I do not like to 
leave out. It is small and not at all striking ; 
stands beside the great Doria palace on the 
Corso, and right in the way, but comparatively 
few enter it. The name is St. Maria in Via 
Lata, and it is the church in which St. Paul and 
St. Luke taught. 

There are really two churches, one entered 
Jrom the street and the other beneath it, reached 
by descending a flight of steps. The latter is 
the one where the apostles preached, and very 
small and humble and dark ; the custodian car- 
ried lighted tapers to insure our seeing. There 
were some faded frescoes on the walls, a well, 
the water of which burst forth miraculously for 
the baptism of converts under their preaching ; 
and there is a fragment of the ancient Servian 
wall in one end that is very curious, with its 
huge blocks of stone arranged both upright and 



ROME, 2^1 

horizontally. In the upper church is preserved 
that remarkable picture of the head of Christ 
*^ begun by St. Luke and finished by an angel/* 
It is kept closely shut up in a cabinet over the 
alter, but a silver lira won an inspection. Faded, 
dingy, crude, all that can be said is that neither 
of the accredited artists could have worked 
from especial training or inspiration! From 
churches to studios — a natural transition. What 
galleries the former have been, and are, for the 
latter. 

Strolling through the Via Margutta — ** the 
artistes quarter** — a large building arrested at- 
tention. On inquiring, we found, among many 
other studios in it, those of our Rodgers and 
Ives. Applying quite unceremoniously for ad- 
mittance to the first, was accorded at once, and 
the son of Mr. Rodgers advanced and received 
us most courteously, and conducted us through 
several rooms, full of the completed works of 
his father, and a number of work-rooms full of 
busy workmen. Among the many admirable 
finished works, four particularly interested us : 
*' The Lost Pleiad,** '' Ruth,** '' Somnambulist ** 
and ** The Blind Girl of Pompeii.** Never was 
the groping movement peculiar to the blind so 
touchingly rendered as in that slight, girlish 



268 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

figure. She is pressing forward against a 
strong wind, which is shown by the way her 
hair and skirts are blown backward, grasping 
her staff, and feeling her way equally, as it 
were, with it, and the sightless orbs directed so 
intently before her. What a curious mastery 
of the **coId, insensate marble'* that can make 
the heart ache so I 

We were equally unceremonious and for- 
tunate in our reception at the studio of Mr. 
Ives. He was just going out, but turned at 
once, and accompanied us with the utmost 
kindness and graciousness through his rooms. 
There, too, were many well-filled, and others 
where the workmen's chisels were busy. It 
was interesting to pause and watch the tiny 
chips and threads of marble dust as made under 
their skillful touches, and mark the delicate 
finish given thereby to lip and brow, the more 
tender curve to the dainty shoulder, the more 
graceful sweep to the trailing drapery. I gazed 
longest on a *^ young Bacchus,'' a drooping 
'^ Ariadne," that half elf, half human '* Undine," 
and that nymph of wood, water and wisdom, 
''^Egeria." The last, especially, drew me to it 
again and again. It is a sitting statue inclin- 
ing somewhat forward, gazing earnestly at the 



ROME. l(i^ 

right foot extending before it, and from the toes 
of which streams of water are gushing. The 
left foot is drawn back and is resting on the tip 
of the toes. There is little drapery, but the little 
is exquisitely wrought. The features are of 
ethereal beauty; the hair is arranged in a sim- 
ple Grecian knot. She is sitting on a stump 
entwined with ivy; around its roots the wild 
acanthus spreads its beautiful leaves. The 
lovely creature! I think it will haunt me 
forever. 

The third studio was that of an Italian 
artist. Besides his pictures, the rooms were 
adorned with tapestries, rugs and bric-a-brac. 
There were some most ingenious exhibitions of 
taste. In one room the light fell on crayons on 
glass, most attractive pictures. Passing to 
another room behind this, the light shone through 
these, converting them into exquisite trans- 
parencies. It was a desire to light what would 
have been otherwise a dark room, without 
marring the walls of the others by introducing 
windows. There were some portraits on his 
walls, wonderful as paintings, and carrying con- 
viction of their faithfulness as likenesses. One 
was a queenly woman, with that splendid 
texture of flesh so often described by the words. 



270 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

'*you can almost see the bones through it/^ 
because of its transparency, features ** clean cut 
as a cameo/* a warm fine glow on the cheek; 
elsewhere that pinkish pearl hue of youth and 
health; and heavy masses and braids of the 
richest golden hair, with the very glint of 
the burnished metal on it* I felt like plucking 
out a strand or two that they might never be 
turned to silver, and thinking of Aurora Leigh, 
kept asking myself ** how many ingots went to 
make that dazzling sheen ? ** So realistic was 
this ** vision of beauty,** one could easily believe it 
would turn and answer, did you speak to it* 

It was, however, the last studio of the four 
where I went oftenest and lingered longest, and 
always with increasing pleasure — that of 
Dwight Benton, formerly of Cincinnati, and 
who favors the ** Commercial ** now and then 
with a delightful letter* Doubtless you have 
read them. His studio consists of two spacious 
rooms, most admirably lighted and tastefully 
fitted up. It is a gallery in itself, with its walls 
covered with ** studies,** and its many easels 
filled with wonder-works of his never idle 
brush ! Of late years he paints landscapes ex- 
clusively, and it may be added ** con amore/* 
Such enthusiasm is bound to tell — so there are 



ROME. 271 

scenes from Capri that do not seem to belong to 
canvass at all — that strip of beach is there to 
stroll on ; those cliffs you will climb sooner or 
later; the chickens aroost in the little boat 
drawn up in the shadow of a comer of that 
quaint old house, will have to fly for it by and 
by, when you will want it for a sail ; in a few 
moments you are going up the steps to follow 
that tall, stately-looking peasant woman just dis- 
appearing in that old house, for you are eager to 
explore it. You look further ! On another easel 
is a stretch of the Campagna, seen beyond and 
through some near ruins. There are patches of 
sunlight on the grass, not paint, but the warm, 
intangible sunbeams that drop from the sky to 
the earth — that wonderful Campagna ! It rolls 
away in shifting arabesques and mosaics of 
all the hues 

** That in the colors of the rainbow live 
And play in the plighted clouds/' 

till afar off it strikes that line of mountains, 
with their top lost in great masses of tossing, 
seething storm-clouds, or veiled in depth after 
depth of bluest mist. It seems as if he had 
wrenched the reality itself from the out-door 
world, and flung it on the canvass. , The gaze 



272 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

wanders from one easel to another with long 
pauses at each. How I wish I could do them 
the faintest justice with any words of mine. I 
can give the subjects and the features, but those 
miracles of atmospheric effects wrought ap- 
parently with as little effort by this artistes 
brush as if by enchantment — it is those that 
are unutterable, indescribable, and must be seen 
by one^s own eyes. I consider myself most 
fortunate in having secured two of his smaller 
canvasses ** to be a possession forever/' The 
larger is a Capri scene of coast and cliff; the 
white-crested waves are rolling in gently, and 
breaking upon the former; the ruins of the 
palace of Tiberius crown the latter. It is a 
picture of striking individuality and specially 
characteristic of this foreign world. The other 
is a subject of pathetic interest, which he calls 
^'Shelley^s grave/' It represents the coast 
near Spezzia, where the body of the poet was 
washed ashore, found and interred for a time. 
A simple cross marks the grave. A somber 
sky, the low coast, a little strip of beach, the 
grass and weeds and sedgy growth peculiar to 
such a spot, with a rude cross, that is all. But 
what a story it tells ! So anxious am I that 
others may have an opportunity to see and ap- 



ROME. 273 

preciate this home artist, I shall make a special 
point with my old friends of the book-store of 
The Robert Clarke Company, Cincinnati, of 
having these placed in their windows as soon 
as they reach the United States. One so gfifted 
in his profession, and of such high worth in 
every phase of character as Mr. Benton, should 
have most ample recognition from his fellow- 
countrymen. 

L. G. C. 

Rome, May 2, 1883. 




MAIORI. 



O not trouble to tell me : I know I have 
been delinquent. But then that is not 
one of my '* too many and too-tedious-to-make- 
mention of feelings/' So the one time can be 
blinked at. Especially if you remember the 
scripture injunction. K you are like me you 
never do unless you want to. 

Of course your letter came and I had my 
habitual ** good intentions/' but well, to be hon- 
est, I am sure I do not know what became of 
them. I only realize that the days **shod with 
silver speech/* and muzzled with golden speech- 
lessness, have slipped away and given no warn- 
ing, till I should be afraid to try to count them. 
Let them go, and be magnanimous enough to 
bear no malice. That comes so easy to me I 
can recommend it without any tinges of that in- 
ward monitor yclept conscience. It would be 
the J 3th labor of Hercules to attempt to fill up 
this interval. My brain reels at the mere men- 
tion. But I will just give you a mosaic of 
random tiles. You will like it just as well. 

(274) 



MAIORI. 275 

In any case you would feel called on to groan 
critically and perhaps cry aloud: ''The old 
flippancy! What a butterfly she is/' You 
know I do not mind. 

One of the party, the ** lord of creation/' 
you may be sure, had the fever at Rome, to his 
supreme disgust, not the Roman, but typhoid. 
He was sick two months. This, of course, was 
a cloud. But he is a darling, and just to get 
him well again was our supreme anxiety. As 
soon as he was well enough to travel without 
risk, he was ordered here to escape Roman 
lassitude and be ** built up.*' Last Monday we 
started, ** coming by easy stages." Naples was 
our first resting-place. We remained till Satur- 
day. By that date the invalid through much 
eating and drinking shed even the role of a con- 
valescent, and ** Richard is himself again," was 
asserted in every look and act. But we have 
come on here all the same. I wish you could 
spend just one day if no more with us. Such a 
dream-place as it is ! Words can never picture 
it to you, but the cousins in chorus, declared I 
must write and tell you all about it. As if I 
could ! Why you? They did not say. I did 
not ask. I suppose because they are ready to 
hear another of your letters read. You see 



276 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

they have not such a funny, audacious cor- 
respondent as you on their list* 

But to this ** castle in Spain/* this ** Palace 
Beautiful/* this ^* stately pleasure dome/* this 
** Dream Perch/* this ** Hotel Torre di Mezzaca- 
po/* on the ** blue Meditterranean*s** loveliest in- 
let, the Gulf of Salerno, Oh, dear . How to put 
it into words ! It is an ancient castle, built on 
and out of, and into, a lofty cliff, hanging right 
over the water. I could cast my lines into its 
clear depths and angle to no end of capture, if 
they were long enough. They would have 
to measure 90 meters (300 feet) though to touch 
water. Who would help me land my whales ? 
A Cornichean road, the ideal highway of cre- 
ation, winds past its base to Amalfi. I hope 
you know Longfellow*s poem of that name. 
Sheer down the solid rock drops to the wavelets* 
foam-tipped caress. I can hear them when I 
bend over the parapet of my terrace so high 
above them in the air. From that highway, 
superb-macadamized, the ascent to our doorway 
is a tortuous, devious, steep climb. A little 
donkey-cart does it. Two at a time inside, out- 
side the driver alongside the poor beast and 
with a desperate clutch of its loose hide to help 
it to keep its feet, and like poor Joe, '^keep 



MAIORL 277 

moving on/' As I caught sight of that grip, a 
flash of memory gave back a description read 
long ago, of an exceedingly high-bred aristo- 
cratic, ** black and tan terrier — its skin was at 
least two and one-half sizes too large for it/' 
Poor little donkey ! I can fancy him braying 
his loudest that dying refrain of the woman, 

** Glory I hallelujah ! I am going -where 
There's no more hard work to do»" 

After he landed the four of us **safe and 
sound/* he dragged up with equal faithfulness our 
four ** Saratogas/' When I saw that, I cowered 
into a comer and hid my eyes. How I hated 
that trunk of mine! I think that particular 
donkey ought to be canonized and made a 
** constellation " in one of the unoccupied places 
of honor in the sky* Up here we see ** an in- 
closed world of beauty/' The vague distance of 
the sea, where the eye gets lost directly; the 
long, low promontory or cape, where Paestum 
lies stranded in blue mist; mountains that lift 
themselves up so high they win crowns of snow 
for their temerity; great, soaring, jagged, cu- 
riously rent cliffs, many with their sheltered 
sides fashioned into terraces set in fruitful lemon 
and orange groves; the indented coast, with 



278 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

many a pretty bay and baylet and little stretches 
of exquisite beaches ; and countless villages in 
the tenderest tones of white, gt*ay, drab, etc. It 
is a wonderful scene, and so soporific I could fall 
asleep this very instant. It is Sunday all the 
time. The town of Maiori lies far below us on 
the northeast, with a population of six thousand, 
an exquisite bit of harbor and lovely beach, I 
see pretty little craft, of many styles and si^es, 
run up on the last. Now and then, out on the 
water, a microscopic sail attached to a little 
black speck, or a lazily propelled row-boat, 
breaks up **the death in life^^ of the scene. 
They tell me as a fact that can be verified, of 
other breaks of the following ilk, if one chooses 
to hang by the hour over the parapet of the dif- 
ferent terraces or esplanades : a rattle-trap of a 
wagon, with a team of three animals abreast, 
mixed horses and donkeys, or oxen and cows, 
but each one close kin to my poor ** Raffaello ** 
(that is our donkey*s name) ; a tourist carriage 
or donkey cart; or a procession of *' beasts of 
burden,** with immense baskets, heaping full, or 
casks of wine and water, or some miscellaneous 
burden, borne on top of their heads, and heavy 
enough to bend them half-double at least — in the 



MAIORI. 279 

shape of ^women* Oftentimes men walk beside, 
but never seem to share those burdens. 

Maiori lies at the mouth of a gorge, the 
Val Tramonti. This runs (I do n*t know how 
far) back through a volcanic district. There is 
an ascending drive that is singularly unique and 
interesting. On both sides, a jumble of rent 
mountains; upheavals of beautiful knolls, that 
would themselves be mountains elsewhere, in 
the center of vast basins and deep valleys. 
Capping many of the highest peaks are lone, 
picturesque, gray old churches, with tall, square 
towers. The sides of the mountains are laid 
out in terraces, covered with lemon groves or 
orchards. Continuous chains of quaint old 
towns nestle in the depths or perch at different 
altitudes, so varied in their styles of architecture, 
combination of colors, and situations framed in 
such a novel ensemble, one is kept in a glow all 
the way. All this region abounds with such 
drives. 

Verily, if this modicum of a world is so full 
of wonders, it is crushing to try to grasp the 
stupendous creation of which it is so small a 
fraction. 

We shall stay here, exploring, perhaps a 
fortnight; and then to ** fresh fields.** 



280 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

There is talk of Sicily and Africa, if it 
continues cool enough. 

And to make last week one to ** set apart/* 

my '^good brother/' Mr. W , reached me 

with one of his letters. There are a sacred few 
who keep us at our best. The angel — not the 
demon — in us answers to their summons. Just 
to be with them seems to banish whatsoever is 
unworthy. Heaven — ^the All-good — seems not 
far away, hedged off from entrance by this and 
that device of man ; but all about us, with its 
paths ready and free to our treading, and its 
true life not withdrawing and making conditions 
of acceptance, but enfolding and making us feel 
it is our own inheritance and we can enter 
into it. 

I hope the little book is growing or quite 
grown. It interests me to hear of it. Do not 
give it up, whatever you do. 

I noted the recovery of your peculiar and 
pretty penmanship the moment I saw your let- 
ter. Blessed be the potato, henceforth and 
forever ! 

L* G« C. 

Maiori, April 5, 1886. 



NAPLES. 



W^ THINK I told you Sicily was being 
^^) talked of for our next objective point. 
Well, we had a beautiful drive to Salerno; from 
there by rail to Paestum, where I enjoyed the 
grand old temples for the second time, the others 
for the first time. 

We lunched in the temple of Neptune, 
and I gathered again the acanthas and wild 
flowers. The trip was charming, through a 
continuous garden with orchards and farm 
lands. 

At the temple, an incident occurred I do 
not like to recall. I was looking at some curios 
surrounded by a throng of boys of all ages. 
While deciding about purchasing a very peculiar 
terra cotta head, they pressed closer and closer 
to me. Presently I wanted my glasses ; they 
were gone. I could not linger. Before we 
reached the station, they were brought to me; 
had evidently been taken from my pocket for 
that very purpose, with the certainty of getting 
a reward. This was the only instance of the 
kind that happened to me in all my wanderings. 

(28J) 



282 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

Back to Salerno, and from there to Pom- 
peii. The whole route was a revel of spring 
beauty. Deep valleys, mountains, wide-spread- 
ing plains — ** how beautiful and wonderful all 
this little earth 1 ** We spent the time till train 
hour for Naples in the exhumed city. Nothing 
more marvelous than its frescoes so fresh and 
well-preserved. 

Naples and shopping next day. Some friends 
who had just returned from Sicily and Tunis 
came to tell us about it. One brought many 
Tunis purchases to show us. Another gave a 
description of a Tunis wedding, which, by a 
happy chance, they witnessed. The bride did 
not see her husband for eight days ! The dis- 
play of presents was most gorgeous. 

At 4 p. m., we went to the steamer for 
Sicily. A storm was brewing as we boarded it, 
and by the late dinner hour it was upon us in 
all its fury. One by one the passengers left the 
table till I alone remained. The effect on me 
was not ordinary sea-sickness, but a kind of 
torpidity ; once in my birth I could not lift my 
head, though I was not unconscious. The 
storm lasted all night, but the morning broke 
brilliantly clear and invigorating. 

Palermo at noon ; we had to stay aboard 




CL, 



u 



NAPLES. 283 

till 3 p* m., to be put through a process of dis- 
infecting. All sorts of officers came to examine. 
Barges ran alongside with great tubs of disin- 
fectant water to put soiled clothes through. 
Then the dogano, and such a racket of talk and 
cries ! Hotel des Palmes from the steamer. It 
was pleasantly situated and very comfortable, 
and has a lovely garden. Before going to bed, 
Tunis was given up. The cousins could not 
risk the sea-sickness. 

We spent several days in Palermo and its 
environs. I think it might be called the City of 
Mosaics. Its cathedrals, chapels, palaces, walls, 
everywhere were a mass of this ornamentation. 
We went from one to another till my brain was 
in a hviZZ* The gorgeousness and beauty and 
exquisite execution of the extraordinary subjects 
were beyond description. Only seeing can 
grasp such wonders. There was an English 
garden full of flowers and familiar and un- 
familiar trees and shrubbery. Indeed, Palermo 
can boast many gardens. In our drives on the 
Marina, a very brilliant feature was the carts 
peculiar to the country. The body of the cart, 
the two wheels, the shafts and the trappings of 
the donkey were covered with pictures and de- 
signs in the gaudiest colors — blues, reds, greens. 



284 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

orange, etc. The peasants in them were 
arrayed in garb to match, with faces alight with 
the most good-humored smiles. 

The palaces we were most interested in 
were those of La Zisa and La Cuba, of 
Saracenic origin. The feature of the former 
was its fountain bursting from the waU in 
the vestibule facing the entrance door, and 
descending over a succession of steps to the 
floor, where it took the form of a simple rec- 
tangular cross. Above the fountain was a 
painted arch, below which were three pictures 
in Mosaics. This was very curious. La Cuba 
had nothing but a discolored honey-combed 
vaulting in a small court. A pavilion formerly 
belonging to it had been removed to the center 
of a garden on the opposite side of the street. 
We tramped to it. It had a dome in the roof 
and an arched doorway, and was built of mas- 
sive stones, but otherwise was not especially 
interesting. 

To Monreale was a 'drive of several miles, 
to see its Cathedral and Abbey and fine views. 
Its Mosaics are celebrated, but I did not dream 
of anything like the wonderful Cloisters of the 
Abbey. The Mosaics on the walls of the 
Cathedral cover an area of 70,000 square feet. 



NAPLES. 285 

representing scenes from both the Old and New 
Testaments. I could only look and exclaim. 

The Cloisters are all that remain of the 
original Abbey; they are quadrangular and the 
pointed arches supported by 2J6 columns are 
covered with mosaics, all of their capitals and 
many of the shafts being different. I could 
not even faintly grasp the amount of labor re- 
quired for the execution of such elaborate work. 
We had haze, showers and rain every day, but 
lost no time from our sight-seeing. One day 
we went in the rain to the Museum, where are 
the famous Metopes, ''the most ancient of 
Greek sculptures except the lions of Mycene.*' 
These are from the temple of Selinus, where 
we were to have gone, but a party of English, 
who had just returned, gave such a disenchant- 
ing account of the hardships of the trip, we gave 
it up. These Metopes are on a sublime scale 
representing the contests of gods and goddesses 
and heroes, and are indescribable. One is that 
of Perseus slaying Medusa. 

Not tiring of beautiful Palermo, but of the 
rain, we left one afternoon for Girgenti, ''the 
most beautiful city of mortals,** according to 
Pindar. The railway must have been the work 
of friendly genii, taste, labor and abundance of 



286 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

the ** coin of the county/' for it ran for miles be- 
tween tripple hedges of roses, geraniums and 
cacti, planted in the order I have named them 
one above the other. 

In Holland the hedges are of poppies, and 
** Out West '* in our own country, of sunflowers, 
both such a blaze of color, the one red, the 
other orange, as to almost scorch the eye. 

The number of ruins of temples on a grand 
scale in and around Girgenti keeps the sight- 
seers **on the wing;*' and at bed-time, the 
second in the little day-book reads: What a 
full and interesting day ! I wish I had time to 
tell of these in detail. But Syracuse and the 
Fountain of Arethusa I Thither the route was 
of the most varied. Hills and wide-spreading 
vales like our prairies ; cities crowning moun- 
tains; sulphur-works and great blocks of it piled 
at the stations ready for shipment; orchards, 
exquisite gardens and vineyards, but no forests, 
only a few trees here and there, principally 
eucalyptus that have been recently set out. 
Wild flowers by the acre in countless varieties, 
one being a species of clover, the head three, 
four and five inches long, and blood-red in color. 
We stopped at Catania for lunch at the station, 
ordered it, and when it was served with one 



NAPLES. 287 

glance let it ** severely alone/^ Whereupon the 
waiter fell into a deep dejection. We reached 
Syracuse at 9:30 p. m. 

The night drive through the streets to the 
hotel was beautiful, and we slept the sleep of 
those who knew the good things of this world 
were awaiting us next morning. What a day 
we made of it! We rambled through the 
Roman Ampitheater ; sat where the nobles had 
in the Greek Theater; visited the quarries — 
quarries are one of the most famous character- 
istics of Syracuse — Euryalis, the fountain of 
Arethusa, indeed, leaving nothing unseen. In 
the quarry of Paradise is the famous Ear of 
Dionysius. You may be sure we tried its ex- 
traordinary echoes. In another, that of Latonia de 
Cappuccini, quarry of the Capuchins, we lunched. 
The manager of our hotel was our cicerone, a 
refined and gentlemanly person, but we could 
not induce him to join us, so strong was his feel- 
ing of the difference in our positions. He served 
us with gloved hands, and when we had fin- 
ished withdrew from sight to take his lunch. 
We walked around the ruined fort atop of it, 
and descended into the depths of its subterranean 
fortifications. From the top, Mt. Etna was a 
sublime spectacle — its vast mass of snow-cov- 



288 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

cred volcano seemed lifted bodily into the 
loftiest heights of air while its base was 
enveloped in an impenetrable white mist. 
Anything more ideally ethereal could not be 
imagined* 

The Fountain of Arethusa is inclosed in a 
circular basin^ and can be ga^ed upon from 
above standing on a platform with a railing. I 
looked and longed to get nearer. The custodian 
was at hand with key ready to unlock a gate. 
I entered and found the familiar quotation a 
truth, ** Facilis est discensus.** The water was 
edged with a thick growth of the papyrus, its 
long, slender stalks topped with a kind of palm- 
like tuft. There was a most enchanting walk 
from our hotel to the fountain, and an irresistible 
fascination found me repeating my visit to it. 
It took in one of the finest views of the harbor 
and Mt. Etna. I often stopped as I wandered 
to wonder if perchance I trod in the footsteps of 
Archimides, if my glance rested on the same 
points in both land and water view, and 
wished — how I wished ! — my brain might bum 
with his momentous thoughts and calculations. 

Exquisite views await and arrest the 
traveler everywhere in Sicily. There are some 
barren stretches, but these seem to be forgotten 




Archimedes, 



NAPLES. 289 

as soon as lost sight* of. As our train swept on^ 
these were unrolled before us. Afar off, nest- 
ling on the side of a mountain, we caught a 
glimpse of Meliti, where the Hybia honey of 
the poets was made. Once more at Catania — 
it seemed almost a miracle — ^we were ushered 
into a Pullman palace car! We could hardly 
credit ^*the evidence of our senses.** No cars 
are comparable for comfort, convenience and 
elegance with those of our own native land. It 
was really amusing to see how soon we ad- 
justed ourselves to the accustomed luxuries. 
We ascertained on inquiry that this was a 
special train placed at the expense of the Pull- 
man Company as an experiment. It was hoped 
and thought it would be a success. 

Directly there was a chorus of exclamation, 
The seven rocks of the Cyclops ! The rocks 
the blind Polyphemus hurled so impatiently 
after **the crafty Ulysses.** They rise at no 
great distance from the shore, and from the size 
of some of them the strength of the giant must 
have been indeed taxed. 

Speeding over the plain of Catania took me 
back to school days and my mythology. For 
to a part of it belongs the touching story of 
Proserpine and its harrowing pictures of Pluto 



290 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

carrying her off, her arms outstretched for rescue, 
and her lovely face furrowed with such terror, 
horror and agony as fixed itself indelibly upon 
memory. "'^The Vale of Enna/* with its 
flowers bedewed with the tears of the tortured 
mother and lighted by the burning torch in her 
hand, as she sought hither and thither for 
her lost child — how strange to think I was 
recalling all the story right there upon the 
ground. 

We made but a short tarry at Messina, 
and then came our reluctant addio to beautiful, 
historic Sicily. Trinacria of old, so called be- 
cause of its triangular shape. Not anywhere 
was flaunted that hideous coat of arms — the 
head of Medusa, the Gorgon with locks of 
wreathing serpents and the three legs spring- 
ing from it as a center, representing a triangle, 
and the haunting countenance of horror that 
turned one into stone but to look at it. Yet, I 
put the picture of it into my album of Sicilian 
photographs ! 

How the heart aches over the good-byes 
that we know mean forever. 

Good-bye, O lovely Sicily. 

L. G. C. 

Naples, May t, J886. 




Head of Medusa, Coat of Arms of Sicily, Palermo. 



LAUTERBRUNNER 



^^OURS of J 5th received yesterday* May 
^^j J 7th was the date of receipt of your last 
previous favor* May 23d I mailed a reply from 
Florence. Yet you say you have had no letter 
for three months. What does this mean? I 
am '* wrought up/* I can tell you; because that 
letter was the quintessence of myself. No use 
to go into details about it. You, who so ade- 
quately wreak me upon expression, ** witty, 
wise, brilliant, great head and good heart** — 
dear me I were I the most egotistical instead of 
meek and lowly minded of women — impossible 
to compete with you in doing justice to myself 
— you would resent such ** poaching in your 
preserves.** So I leave you to gnash teeth over 
the loss you can so fully comprehend. I shall 
never get over it myself, never. I think I must 
mention two items. There was a poem by 
myself and another by my cousin, Mrs. O — — . 
I sent the latter to prove that I do not ** monopo- 
lize the family genius.** You will remember 
you put that query. Please make a note of my 



292 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

magnanimity in not withholding an evidence of 
its being possessed in even a higher degree by 
another member. Do you think many — ^not 
women, but — fellow-beings would be equal to 
that ? Oh ! I groan to think of that lost scinti- 
lation ! And shall every time I think of it. How 
you would have enjoyed it I And more — how 
you would have flashed back again! Being 
the cause of wit in others is almost better than 
being witty myself. No; come to think of it, I 
have to **own up*^ to preferring to being the 
possessor at first hand, and even in the over- 
topping degree. There^s the milk and meekness 
of human coveteousness, of which I am **a 
bright and shining light.'^ Not much of the 
goddess in such a confession. But — **1 can't 
tell a lie,*' you know, any more than you or the 
rest of my brethren and sisters. Oh! oh! — 
oh— h— h! that letter! 

I am so glad you had **a. good time'* with 

Miss B . How near she is to my heart you 

must know by this time. 

I have had a letter since you saw her. She 
wrote after her return home in a glow of fine 
spirits. What a ^* triumphal progress** she and 

Mrs. K had! Everybody, everywhere, 

seeming to have vied in the kindliest courtesies, 



LAUTERBRUNNEN. 293 

hospitalities and affectionate attentions. It did 
me as much good to hear of it as if I had myself 

been a recipient. Mrs. K deserved the 

hospitalities in a special degree, her pleasant 
home in Covington having always been a real 

Kentucky *'open house.*^ As for Miss B , 

her extraordinary powers of entertaining — that 
hig head of hers so stuffed full of everything 
that adds to the feast and festival and highest 
enjoyment — she honors her welcomes. Some 
day I count on seeing the work you are giving 
so much time to. The **a.im** must be indeed 
** a difficult thing to attain/* as you say. But 
why not write unconscious of ** the aim?'* 
Would not the aim be attained, and more hap- 
pily ? I ask, not to giv^f but to gain, informa- 
tion. 

You hope companions are kind. These 
are favorite cousins. What a lovely spot 
this is! We are making a little sojourn of 
a week **in the beautiful valley.** The 
Staubach is shimmering its long, filmy length 
in the sunlight to my right: the Jungfrau 
lifting just opposite its sun-struck dazzle 
of snow, and beautiful as she is reported, 
which cannot be said of all Jungfraus. The 
village is prettily scattered along the glacier 



294 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

stream ** tearing like mad ** through the depths 
of the valley; mountains hem it in, some 
snow-covered the year round; others, bare 
rock; lower ones are covered with trees and 
grass. Many show only precipitous walls, 
down which tumble and foam countless cas- 
cades. One long, wide reach of the mountain 
side is a vast meadow, here and there broken 
into knolls outlined by rows of trees, but the 
meadow part is mantled with the velvetiest 
green eyes ever fastened upon, and it is all 
dotted with little huts and bams, the lower 
half white and the upper, the richest reddish 
brown, under its roof of the same hue project- 
ing into the deep eaves, we know so well from 
our ornamental ** Swiss chalets.*' Nothing 
could be lovelier or more unique and pic- 
turesque. I have seen nothing equal to it, any- 
where else. Words cannot picture it, and I do 
not believe any artist could paint it. 

L. G. C. 

Lauterbmanea, July 29, 1886. 



ON THE NILE. 



^^OU will have to take jostle instead of 
^^- penmanship; but I have a comforting 
conviction that will be preferred to nothing at 
all, especially as I am giving you my best. 

This is my third day's steaming up the 
Nile. The most enthusiastic tourists consider 
this prosaic in the extreme, and that the dahaheah 
is the only method by which to take the Nile. 
As for me — is it my accumulating years, I won- 
der? — I am more than content to be prosaic. 
We are about 125 or 130 miles from Cairo. 
Such a strange, kaleidoscopic, fascinating expe- 
rience as this is ! I think I have quite lost my 
head. I am totally unequal to putting it into 
words. But I shall try to toss you bits of it — 
Esterhazy scattering diamonds as he passes, if 
you choose ! First, the thrilling episode. We 
steamed away from Marseilles **in the teeth of 
a storm,** which rapidly grew into such violence 
even Miss B got to her prayers. For my- 
self, I was in my berth, too sick — u e,t dizzy — 
to care for anything. A tremendous wave 

(295) 



296 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

burst through my door, flooding everything; 
the floor looked the very sea itself, I could lift 
my head only long enough to ask if the door 
was gone. 

This was a dangerous storm indeed. No 
vessel left Marseilles for two days after ours on 
account of it. But we weathered it, and lived 
to enjoy the beautiful Mediterranean, the ex- 
ceeding wonder of its blueness and its lovely 
sunrises and sunsets. Also, we made acquaint- 
ance with many pleasant fellow-passengers, and 
Miss B , as is her wont, had a lively flirta- 
tion with a distinguished fellow-citizen from the 
Hub, now an appointee of government at Alex- 
andria, **an associate justice of international 
law,'* or something like it. 

We had a day at Alexandria. Saw one of 
the ** seven wonders'* it boasts of — the Pharos, 
Pompey*s Pillar, the Serapeum, some of its ba- 
zaars, and had two charming drives to its 
famous quais and one garden. Everywhere 
all the phases of oriental life greeted us. Any- 
thing more exciting is inconceivable. Any enu- 
meration would be absurd, as you know just 
what they must have been. 

At dark the judge saw us off and looked a 
** Melancholy Jaques ** indeed, as my detective 



ON THE NILE, 297 

eyes saw his parting pressure of Miss B — *s 
hand* 

We came by train to Cairo. Such a 
charming young Englishman sat beside me, a 
naval officer. We fell into the friendliest talk 
at once, and kept it up until I was breathless. 
I saw him once again. We shook hands and 
parted. I do not know his name, but I shall 
remember him forever. I have come to think 
young English naval officers a class set apart; 
for at supper, on reaching the hotel, another 
sat beside me, and we talked till both forgot to 
**do justice to the fare before us.^^ We met 
several times, and I have the most precious 
little good-by note which I shall never part 
with. At the second interview we merrily in- 
troduced each to the other. Do you know it 
makes my heart sore to think we shall never 
meet again ? 

The above is proof that after all the living 
human interest is paramount. The Cairo life 
into which I plunged, or maybe it swallowed 
me up, did not dim the tenderness of this 
experience. 

At the Pyramids I would have written to 
you, but I found myself in the hands of the 
Philistines — Beduoins, and never did I enjoy 



29S BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

anything more. Beyond all the wonder, sub- 
limity of feeling and unutterable admiration for 
them, the Pyramids, another of the seven — 
came a curious thrill of bond and blood that 
made me sit down with and walk about with, 
** that throng of importunate vendors of spurious 
antiques,** and try to get at them. Shrewd, 
amiable, bright, ready, handsome, picturesque- 
looking fellows — we were soon on the best of 
terms. We gripped hands at parting. No, 
the devil is not as black as he is painted! 
They made Miss B — nervous. But I hope I 
shall see them again. 

Also we saw the lone pillar at Heliopolis, a 
garden in which is the ** Virgin's tree ** — I have 
leaves and a ball from it; it is a syacmore — ^an 
ostrich garden with 600 of the bare-legged 
bypeds strutting round and now and then flap- 
ping their $300 apiece matchless feathers. The 
Museum, where mummies ** are a drug,** and 
genuine scarabea too, but you could not buy 
one of them for **a. mint of money,** The 
island of Rhoda, where Pharaoh*s daughter 
picked up Moses, The indescribable mosques, 
tombs of the Khalifs, Bachas and Marmelukes, 
and just a thousand or more wonders that seemed 
to have been handed down from the "Arabian 



ON THE NILE. 299 

Nights/* Camels, donkeys, turbaned Turks, 
Nubians blacker than night, veiled women — I 
can more easily tell you what was not than 
what was there. I am only sorry I cannot go 
back and stay **ever so long.** Six days — ^that 
is only an aggravation ! 

The steamer lands at every point of in- 
terest, and arrangements are made for us to see 
them. Donkeys and camels where too far to 
walk. We went on donkeys to see the site of 
Memphis, Tombs of Apis and the Serapum, 
etc. My donkey and its little sixteen year old 
driver were jewels. The first was as well 
gaited as any horse, and the latter was proud to 
show him off — too proud to take any account 
of his own sixteen mile trot. All we saw at 
Memphis was the site of some fragments of 
statues and temples. The shifting sands some- 
times bury it from sight ; sometimes, but rarely, 
leave a little bare. The tombs are in splendid 
order for seeing ; long avenues, the floor a per- 
fect level, and everybody carrying a candle. 
You can fancy how unique and beautiful the 
flitting glimmer of the moving throng — now 
peering into the dark recesses in which are the 
great, massive tombs, or again running their 
lights along the walls to see the exquisite picture 



300 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

stones, or gathering in groups to discuss them. 
But oh ! how I wish all I care for could see 
with their own eyes ! 

As we glide along, we see many character- 
istic features of this ** twelve miles wide ** strip 
of wonderland. Long trains of camels ; Bedouin 
encampments ; stately fellows in white turbans 
and flowing draperies, sweeping past on their 
fleet steeds ; vast green fields ; mud towns and 
villages ; the tall, beautiful palms in groves and 
avenues ; sugar plantations, with their stacked 
canes and great factories; long tongues of sand 
fringed with pelicans ; flocks of herons winging 
their way in the blue sky; and — ^there is the 
luncheon gong ! 

After that interesting collation, how tire- 
some eating is ! I wish we could live on air, 
perfume of flowers, sunbeams and the like. 
Everybody nearly is English, and they come 
out strong as trenchermen and women. One, 
Canon Farrer, not the canon of Westminster,, 
eats and drinks to — well, it is none of my busi- 
ness. I need see nothing. I do not wish to. 
The ** guests ** of this steamer number ex-mem- 
bers of Parliament and their families, canons, 
curates, and plenty of people with ** handles to 
their names ;** but they are not specially inter- 



ON THE NBLE, 30 J 

csting. Mr. Cook owns these steamers and is 
himself aboard — a large^ rather fine-looking 
man, but far from being a model of deportment; 
simply seems quite deficient in good manners. 

The river, the land, the people, the animals, 
the ruins and their history, and legends with 
books, books forever! furnish my daily food. 
But I like companionship, and if the whole 
truth must be told prefer that of some really 
** splendid man " to this of my own sex. One 
can live too much in books, I fear. Do not they 
unfit for 

** Living in common ways with 
Common men ? ** 

But why should I complain of anything 
under the sun ? 

Well, good-bye. 

L. G. C* 

On the Nile, December 30, 1886. 

I 




EGYPT (FROM PARIS). 



I^^OTHING like agreeable surprises, is 
[^^^ there ? I ought to be on the broad At- 
lantic, but am not. Let Miss B go without 

me several days ago* I am going to linger here 
for several weeks longer. There is the woman 
for you! I wonder if I can go back to where I 
left off. What did I tell you ? I wish I could 
recall. But don*t you call my young naval 
officers *^ infernal.** I cannot allow that. If 
only you could have seen and known them, 
you would go down on your knees to take that 
back. You cannot even know how sore it 
makes my heart to think I shall never see them 
again. Ah ! woe is me ! 

No, I did not, ** of course, take a run over 
to Jerusalem.** Yet two more weeks would 
have accomplished that. The other two, Miss 

B and her friend, would not even consider 

it. I could not go alone. But indeed Egypt 
was enough, had we only stayed long enough. 
What we had was for me that ** first taste of 
blood that makes the tiger.** Did I not tell you 

(302) 



EGYPT, FROM PARIS. 305 

I had found out what it was to be a "lotus- 
cater?'' 

No need of anything but sitting still to be 
borne by that invisible, noiseless steam-power 
up and down the Nile — that wonderful, mys- 
terious, enchanted stream. How its waters — 
your warning came too late; I had already 
quaffed deep and long of it — ^thank the Lord 
if that take me back ! — slipped away from be- 
neath us ; how the banks studded here with its 
picture-villages built of mud, there with groves 
of stately palm trees, or yonder with some 
famous ruins, sped by carrying the enraptured 
gaze with them into the distances that dimmed 
and melted into the sky; how the unfolding 
scenes ahead won it after a time of dreams, 
revery, ecstasy, to behold great hills gliding 
towards us with lengthening chains of grottoes 
hewed out of their solid rock, and wrought and 
carved into stately monuments for dead kings 
or their mighty subjects ; how the day wore on 
to sunsets of inexpressible glory, succeeded by 
intervals of curious grey, and then — the sudden 
afterglow that made sky, air, water and earth 
an ethereal commingling of ** all the tints that in 
the colors of the rainbow live and play in the 
plighted clouds!'' Ah! mere existence there 



304 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

was bliss^ more than akin, beyond that of lotus- 
eating. But alas ! how to give you any idea 
of it ! 

There was a comical side, or else I must 
have become a slave to the enchantment of 
such a life. The contact with the natives. 
They came in swarms the moment the steamer 
landed, to beg if there was no excursion ; with 
their donkeys to act as ^* guides ** if there was. 
Here is an instance : We were to go to the 
rock tombs of Beni-Hassan. At seven in the 
morning, behold me mounted on a miserable 
little scrap of a donkey, for which my English 
saddle even more than myself was a world too 
large. The road varied from sharp inclines to 
steep ascents. How was I to stick to my steed, 
was scarcely queried before I found myself 
clasped in the dirty arms of my tall Arab and 
firmly pinioned. No use to squirm. That 
only made him tighten his embrace. My only 
comfort was seeing all my sisters in the same 
plight. I do not know what I did not dread ; 
but certainly hosts to which your Holy Land of 

'*f s** would have been welcome guests. 

Once at the tombs, I forgot my terrors. Spacious 
chambers hollowed out of the solid rock, with 
ceiling and walls decorated with biographical 



EGYPT, FROM PARIS. 305 

paintings; all the details of the" history of the 
life of the occupant. And in front those mag- 
nificent columns ** that have preceded our era, 
notwithstanding their Doric appearance, by some 
3,000 years,** says Mariette Bey. They are 
perfect Doric style, and imposing as magnificent. 
One of the pictures is that of a body of emi- 
grants, **the most ancient-known example of 
the hordes attracted by the proverbial fertility of 
Egypt." Its date is 4,800 years ago. Three 
days and a half at Luxor and Karnak and 
Thebes. Temples, kings, tombs, palaces. 
Colossi-obelisks, all carved in intaglios and 
reliefs, and covered with those brilliant paintings 
that defy time, weather, everything but the pro- 
faning hand of man. I rode to melodious 
Memnon on a donkey tn a sho%ver. Rain in 
Egypt ! And it was afternoon I Bah ! how I 
detest doing the right thing at the wrong time. 
I thought of you and the letter I meant to have 
written on that lofty knee. I had my music, 
though ! 

All the way to the limit of my trip, Assuan, 
^* ancient Syene,** there was repetition of land- 
ings, donkeys, guides, rides and ruins. I never 
tired. Each had its special attractions. I lived 
in a daze. Ah ! I wish every time I think of 



306 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

them to be back and doing it all over and over 
again. Yes, when I come, you must listen and 
look* For I shall have pictures to help me tell 
their story — those beautiful, sublime monuments 
of a mighty people and civilization, vanished 
from the face of the earth these thousands of 
years ago. 

I am growing eager to see that ** Venture 
on the Sea of Literature/' Have I told you I 
like the title amazingly ? I shall be astonished 
and disgusted if it is not a happy hit. It shall 
be ! Those — Your friend, 

L. G. C. 

Paris, February 10, J 883. 





CUBA. 



ES, I went to Cuba, and it was a ravish- 
ing experience. Not quite an Eden, but 
so near to being I There was not an American 
{u e., a Yankee) of us all who did not fully be- 
lieve it would be, once *^ Uncle Sam*' held it in 
his sturdy grip* To the last man and woman 
and the best, we defiantly broke the command- 
ment and coveted our neighbor's possession with 
our whole hearts. It is the most unreal reality, 
the most dream-like substantiality, the most 
vision-like, sure-enough scrap of earth imagin- 
able. I feared to shut my eyes, lest on opening 
them it would have vanished. It looked as 
magical an isle as that. Oh — h ! Just writing 
about it makes me catch my breath and widen 
my eyes to get it all back again. 

The unspeakable splendors of its tropical 
vegetation — not only avenues and groves of 
** lofty palm trees,'* but vast forests of them; not 
only ^Mofty palm trees," but countless others, 
gorgeous in a burst of bloom without foliage — 
not a suspicion of green mingled with that bla^e 

(307) 



308 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

of richest rose^ scarlet^ purple or white, as it 
happened to be ; not trees only, but clambering 
vines, all aflower with such lily bells as made 
me rub my eyes to make sure there was no illu- 
sion; and oh! such vistas and vistas of ^*the 
wonders of creation ** as made me marvel what 
surpassing them could be possible in any other 
sphere ! 

I wish you could have seen the sunrise as 
we steamed into the harbor of Havana, the city 
itself seeming to rise out of the water like 
** beautiful Venice,^* and like it, fashioned by 
the cunningest conjury out of sunbeams, the 
colors of the rainbow, the ethereal elements of 
the blue empyrean, the crystalline layers of the 
atmosphere, the tints of time and the films of 
earth ! Yes, and have stood, as I stood later, 
on the ramparts of the fort, taking in such a 
spectacle of **the kingdoms of tliis earth ^' as 
swept me into thinking it almost equaled that of 
the Great Temptation on the Mount I 

I am forgetting to tell you of the trip. We 
took the steamer Niagara at St. Augustine. It 
was fresh and clean and very comfortable. 
Among our fellow-travelers were several who 
proved very companionable and courteous. The 
weather was bright, mild, delightful. There 



CUBA. 309 

were several young Cubans, quite attractive in. 
appearance* 

Next morning I rose early and went on 
deck in time for the sunrise. It was wonder- 
ful. The *^ First Officer*^ said, **lt is a rare 
sunrise/* which made me more than thankful 
to see it. After breakfast, I stayed on deck to 
see the gulf sights. Saw jelly-fish in great 
numbers; they looked like fungi. The coast 
of Florida was in sight all the time; also an 
occasional vessel, ship or steamer. At night. 
Cape Farewell light-house, the long wake of 
gleaming, flashing phosphorescent waves; 
Orion, in all his glory overhead, and the stars 
more brilliant than I had ever seen them. Re- 
mained up so late did not undress, as I wished 
to be on deck again at the earliest possible 
hour. At 5:30 the moon was in its last 
quarter; the sky a lovely glow. Just as the 
sun rose above the horizon, we were steaming 
into port. The spectacle was indescribably 
beautiful and unique. Fort Morro Castle, on 
its not high bluff, the circular sweep of the 
shore line, the city as it were rising out of the 
water, with its buildings so varied in size, 
style and color ; the harbor filled with shipping 
and innumerable little craft shooting hither and 



3 JO BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

thither^ and the dazzling sunlight firing it all 
into a glory no words could catch ! 

We were quickly passed into a rude kind 
of gondola, and skimmed over the liquid inter- 
val between the steamer and quai. 

What a medley of fellow-beings awaited 
us on landing! What a Jargon of sounds! 
Everything so new and strange to us. A pro- 
cession of cabs and victorias bore us our 
several ways. We went to Hotel Quinta 
Menida, kept by a young fellow-countryman in 
conjunction with some Cubans. The building 
is in the Moresque style, round a triangular 
court, arcades on this court to two stories. 
The entrance on the ground floor is under an 
arcade that goes round the entire exterior, into 
a lofty vestibule like those seen all over Europe. 
This ground floor is paved with great slabs of 
stone! the stairways and all the other floors 
with white marble. The ceilings are from 
eighteen to twenty feet high. Windows and 
doors are also very high and broad. On the 
halls there are double doors, a massive inside one, 
and a glazed outside one of half its height. 
This is for ventilation and privacy. The same 
massive doors open on the balconies with which 
every room is provided and the outer with 



CUBA. 3n 

marble slats, for adjusting the light* The two 
middle panes of the inner doors are on hinges, 
making them movable for the same purpose. 
There are no glass windows such as we have, 
but there are transoms in ornamental devices of 
stained glass, generally white and blue. The 
house has three stories, and a flat roof with a 
balustrade that can be used for promenading or 
sitting. The laundry is on one corner, and 
Chinese, blacks, children and dogs seem to be 
perfectly at home there. The view was fine 
and extensive. 

We went over the whole edifice, peering 
into the rooms, corridors, etc., getting that ** first 
lasting impression.*' The parlor is an immense 
room, furnished peculiarly, one-half being in 
cane seat, sofas and chairs placed in the wall ! 
Rows of flowers all around; a central rug, with 
a geometrical square of rocking chairs inclosing 
it, and a table in the center. In the exact center 
of the spacious room, another table, with a fixed 
number of chairs packed up close to it. On the 
opposite side, the same arrangement is repro- 
duced in upholstered furniture, covered with 
white Holland. From the ceiling depended 
chandeliers and brackets of tropical blooms and 
vines, while the side walls were covered with 



312 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

great mirrors. The entire interior is white* 
As a room, it is certainly unique. I have never 
seen anything like it. The arcades on this 
parlor floor are full of small tables, where the 
meals are served, of which there are two, break- 
fast at 9 a. m. and dinner at 6 p. m. The dishes 
are the same for both, except the addition of 
soup for dinner. Oranges caught on a fork and 
peeled — it takes both practice and skill to accom- 
plish this — ^are sucked, the pulp not being swal- 
lowed. Fried plantains are a disappointment, 
tasting as if they had soured before or in the 
process of cooking. A small panfish is exceed- 
ingly delicate and appetizing, and a very petite 
banana is delicious. Coffee is only tolerable. 
Can any anywhere compare with our own 
^* home coffee?** Ice is manufactured and the 
supply is abundant. 

One of the first things to do was to take an 
orientation drive. The temperature was per- 
fect; a breeze, just warm enough, just cool 
enough, blowing steadily. The sky was tinted 
in pinks, green and gold. The city seemed an 
enchanted one. I half feared to close my eyes, 
lest it would vanish. The houses had caught 
the sky tints, being **in all the colors of the 
rainbow;** are painted so. The most of them 



CUBA. 3B 

are but one story or two stories. Arcades are 
the rule, some with columns of different color 
from the house. The windows, almost with- 
out exception, are unglazed, having instead a 
light iron grating. This is a most singular and 
curious feature. The inmates chat through 
them with friends on the outside, looking as if 
in prison. Mischievous or ** venturesome ^' ur- 
chins clamber up and cling to the inside like 
birds in a cage. The Prado, quite recently laid 
out, and many of the squares, are beautiful and 
light up brilliantly in the very superior quality 
of gas. The streets were not thronged, as I 
expected them to be. There was a glorious 
'* afterglow,** which gave us as long a drive as 
we wished. I got up at 2 a. m. to look for the 
Southern Cross, that same ** First Officer ** hav- 
ing told me it did not rise till after midnight. I 
saw it, to my great gratification. This was the 
second time. The first time was on the Nile. 

One morning, we went out early **to go to 
market,** this being ** a thing to do ** in all cities 
of note. The walk was short, leading past one 
of the public squares, with few trees, but pleas- 
ant looking. There was a most miscellaneous 
crowd of people and ** beasts of burden.** 
Horses (very small) and donkeys with immense 



314 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

panniers filled with every conceivable product 
and commodity ; toivs of them fastened to each 
other by their tails, and so covered up with 
their burdens only their feet were visible. Fancy 
the spectacle. The women were of the com- 
mon and lowest classes, dark-yellow and black 
in color, wearing no bonnets, of course, but only 
some light veil over the head. Very few of either 
men or women looked clean. The market 
building was a large structure, well lighted, and 
exhibiting every known vegetable as well as all 
the delicious tropical fruits. 

I had an experience worth chronicling. 
My watch was in its little outside breast-pocket 
attached by pin and chain, but in full view. A 
fine, open-countenanced man at one of the stalls 
touched me gently on my arm and warned me 
to put it out of sight. This was done in panto- 
mine, as he spoke no English and I no Spanish, 
but was as ** plain as v/ords could say it.^^ I 
never felt or gave warmer thanks. The dirt 
and odors soon became unbearable, and we re- 
turned to our hotel just in time for breakfast. 

We tried a shopping expedition with some 
other ladies and an interpreter — a very pretty 
Cuban — but it was not a success. Saw noth- 
ing characteristic but the mode of shopping. 



CUBA. 315 

The goods were brought to our carriages and 
shown to us by the interpreter and a clerk. 

One afternoon we went to the Cathedral ; 
it was grey and rather picturesque, but what 
we wished to see was not shown, so we soon 
left. Thence we drove to the Gov.-GeneraFs 
country-seat to see its noted garden, which 
went beyond expectation. We walked through 
avenues of stately palms, and saw tropical trees 
in bloom of which we had never read or heard. 
One, the Carolinas, had fringe-like tassels of 
blossoms in Magenta color, graduated from 
very deep to the faintest tint. The threadlike 
fringe was tipped with the deepest red and 
gold. This was one of those *^ without foliage 
or a suspicion of green.*^ The house is unpre- 
tending indeed, and the grounds only fairly kept 
up. Brought away several flowers and pressed 
them. 

After our 6 o^clock dinner and a short re- 
union in the parlor, a party of us went to one of 
the most frequented of the public squares to hear 
the band and watch the crowd. The party 
consisted of a German gentleman from Chicago, 
of political and journal prominence, a Catholic 
priest from New England — his tongue shot with 
such arrows of wit and flashes of eloquence 



3\6 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS* 

one could hardly keep back a ** hurra ! for old 
Ireland ! ** and two ladies beside myself, I fell 
to the care of the priest, and made merry over 
having a priest for a cavalier, as I took his arm. 
But indeed it was a curious experience. 

We found seats and watched the kaleido- 
scopic show. One feature claimed special at- 
tention — the way the men and women kept 
apart. This is not more pronounced in a 
Quaker meeting-house. The priest pointed out 
the son of the Duke of Leeds, a tall, large, 
striking-looking man and a count. Indeed, the 
graphic, lively loquacity of the good ^* Father*^ 
added so much to our entertainment, we in- 
cluded him nolens votens in all our after move- 
ments. At 9:30 we went to a grand cafe" and 
had lemonade, milk punch and wine. Oh! I 
must not forget to tell you my gallant escort 
presented me with a bouquet. 

Next day we went to Cerro, a suburb of 
fine private residences with an ** aristocratic con- 
vent.^' We drove up to one of the handsomest 
places, and got permission to walk through it 
This proved to be the residence of the Senator 
to Spain. His young son escorted us, as well as 
the gardener, and both were models of courtesy. 
They presented us with flowers and leaves^ 



CUBA. 317 

among the latter being that of the guava, which 
I have pressed. We could only drive around the 
Convent of the Sacred Heart, not having pro- 
vided ourselves with any introduction. We 
gained admission to another residence, that of a 
Senor de la Costa. It and its grounds were a 
dream of beauty. But I must to other excur- 
sions, or I will never get away from Cuba. 

One to a great sugar plantation — a charm- 
ing drive from the city. This was under the 
auspices of the German gentleman, who had 
letters of introduction to everything worth see- 
ing in the island. When we reached the en- 
trance gate, admission was most decidedly 
denied. It took talk and time to obtain even an 
interview with the owner. Finally he came — a 
very handsome, young, distingue-looking man. 
At first he was most haughtily courteous 
and immovable — could not grant entrance* A 
recent experience with some ill-mannered fellow- 
countrymen finally explained this. In the ab- 
sence of the family, they had gone into the 
house, invaded every part of it, despite the re- 
monstrances of the servants. At last he gave 
way and at once became the most gracious of 
hosts, treating us as if we were specially invited 
guests. He went with us himself through all 



3J8 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

the works, showing and explaining, and we 
saw the full process of the sugar-making, from 
the feeding of the stalks to the mills to where it 
came forth in beautiful glittering crystals of 
golden-brown sugar. On parting, he presented 
each with a cornucopia of it, filled by himself in 
our presence* I shall keep mine intact as long 
as I live. 

Another took in two plantations — one of 
bananas, the other of pineapples. We had the 
privilege of gathering from each for ourselves. 
A very small bunch of bananas sufficed, and 
we had them put in our carriages while we 
walked some distance to the pineapple planta- 
tion. None of us had ever seen one. It be- 
longed to some native Cubans who had a cot- 
tage at the entrance. One went with us as 
guide. The plants were in. regular rows, aver- 
aging from four to five feet in height, one apple 
to each rising in the center of a large cluster of 
stiff leaves that curve like those of the aloe, and 
have much the same appearance and coloring. 
The guide invited us to pluck for ourselves, 
each took one. We little suspected what **a. 
big contract ** even one was, as we gayly and 
proudly started on the return tramp, after hav- 
ing tried to see which could find the Biggest one 



CUBA. 3J9 

to pluck. Shifting back and forth, first one hand 
and then the other, began almost immediately. 
This did not help long. In a very few moments 
I was lagging and panting, and next, possessed 
with a fright and dread that the arms could not 
hold out and that I would have to drop my 
treasure. Then such a jump of my heart ! A 
quick step by my side, a relieving hand slipped 
between mine and that stem held by such a de- 
spairing clutch, and voice and words that might 
have been those of my own special **good 
angel :*' ** Allow me to carry your apple.** But 
didn't I! At the cottage, a feast of pineapples 
awaited us — peeled, sliced and laid in sugar- 
besprinkled layers. *^Fit food for the gods'* 
indeed ! 1 wonder if they ever had such. 

Just one more excursion, and I will have 
to sing : 

"Beautiful isle, farewell, farewell.** 

This was to the caves, sixty miles by rail 
from Havana. A very early start was impera- 
tive, so we were at the station before it was 
clear dawn and partaking of a breakfast of coffee 
and rolls to serve the sixty miles. It was far 
from being a temptation to over-indulgence! 
The cave was a short drive from the railway 
and was made in a variety of vehicles ; but the 



320 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

day was fine and our spirits elastic, and every 
moment seemed a special enjoyment, in spite of 
our lack of comfort. The cave itself awoke all 
our enthusiasm. Up pretty ascents, down into 
twilight depths, across fairy-like bridges, among 
subterranean wonders that exhausted exclama- 
tions, and panting and perspiring till my escort, 
the German gentleman, groaned between gasps, 
**I didn*t bargain for this!^' Fortunately, at 
that juncture, we came upon one of the most 
extraordinary features, a large, magnificent, per- 
fectly-formed organ. Striking it brought forth 
sonorous responses. A kind of awe hushed us 
into silence. The Bride, another of these ex- 
traordinary formations, next elicited unlimited 
admiration. She stood, gowned in white, with 
her filmy veil enveloping her, as if waiting for 
the bridegroom. By what subtle processes of 
corigelation had nature fashioned anything so 
realistic! One could only gaze and question, 
and give homage, and leaving her presence, 
turn to look again and again, not hoping to see 
her ever again. 

Do you wonder we were loath to leave the 
beautiful island ? I said, *'I have always been 
opposed to annexation, but Cuba ! Yes, I own 
to wishing for it henceforth.** 



CUBA. 32\ 

I think ! have never imposed a postscript 
on you. Now I am going to. 

Looking over what I have written, I find 
I have omitted mentioning one thing of great 
moment. It seems that many of the planters 
are retaining in slavery a number of colored 
people who are really free, but ignorant of the 
fact. These, I presume, are the ones who come 
under the decree giving freedom to all slaves 
sixty or over sixty years old, issued by the 
Spanish government July, J 870. This is 
surely a crying injustice. 



Cuba, April 7, J 885. 



L. G. C. 




A VISION OF FATIGUE. 




(E were a party of nine or ten, making 
a summer of it. 

Put-in-Bay came first on the list of places 
to be visited. It was unusually crowded and 
brilliant that season. All the hotels were full. 
The weather was enchanting ; the temperature 
exhilarating. Even the wines for which it was 
so celebrated were not more so. Day after day 
sped in a kind of intoxication till we felt we 
could bear it no longer, and to the last one of us 
voted to go home for a rest ! 

That trip was one to be remembered. It 
was Sunday afternoon. We had to take an 
excursion steamer, on boarding which the only 
** standing-room ^* even to be had was to lean 
against the pillars of the deck. After a long 
wait — taking turns — in this way, the captain 
liad his state-room put at our service, and we 
realized what a gift of an invention chairs were. 
On reaching our home port at 2:30 a. m., we 
Jiad to trudge several miles, sharing the carrying 

(322) 



A VISION OF FATIGUE. 323 

of twin babies with their two nurses. No one 
complained or shirked. But the lines — 

** — hed — bed — delicious bed, 
That heaven or earth to the weary head," 

were never more convincing than when we 
sought ours. 

Next morning breakfast at nine, and an im- 
mediate return to them. 

At once^ on dragging and throwing my- 
self upon mine, the vision began. 

I was back at Put-in-Bay. It was a crystal 
world. The island, hotels, houses, people, the 
distant shores with their villages, the various 
vessels, all, everything, I could see in and 
through, as I floated around in a lovely little 
sail-boat of crystal, and looked down through 
its bottom into the crystal depths of the lake. 

But there was no time to be lost in wonder. 
In the twinkling of an eye, I was standing in 
space surrounded by gigantic mountains that 
rose to the very firmament. They were of 
countless shapes, some cloven into rifts and 
clefts, others smooth as velvet lawns, and so 
precipitous I felt what the dizziness would be to 
dare to look down. Presently my gaze was 
fixed by one just in front of me. There was 



324 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS. 

a monstrous fissure in which, carved as it 
were, was a giant knee, slightly crooked or 
bent. Years before I had read the anecdote 
about Cuvier; his positive conviction and as- 
sertion that fossil man would be found, and his 
reply when asked from time to time, **pas en- 
core/* I exclaimed under my breath : ** Why, 
there is Cuvier^s fossil man/' In a breath I 
was in a subterranean chamber of vast propor- 
tions, with lofty ceiling and octagonal in shape. 
The walls were studded with the richest jewels, 
and it was lighted by a soft yet clear radiance — 
an opaline mist of exquisite tints. At intervals 
were placed large caskets on pedestals, these, 
too, incrusted with gems. 

On my approaching, in succession, one after 
another, some unseen agency lifted each cover, 
revealing all the most celebrated stones I had 
ever read of. The Kohinoor lay in a dull mass 
on a velvet cushion. The green diamond 
flashed into tempered light. Orlaff shone as it 
might have if it ever was the eye of an Indian 
idol. The Regent blazed till I could look no 
longer. Suddenly such a lovely brilliant ! ^*Oh! 
this is the Great Rosy diamond of the fairy story 
I read so long ago!'' I cried, bending over 
eagarly. To find myself seated on a throne 



A VISION OF FATIGUE. 325 

of mother-of-pearl, and being borne onward by 
some invisible force, swift as light, through an 
arcade of sea-shells. '* Why, this is like Bayard 
Taylor^s arcade of rainbows — as beautiful ! as 
beautiful ! ** I commented. Shells such as I had 
never seen, different in shape, color and luster, 
but uniform in size, were fitted together from a 
height far overhead to a depth far below. On 
and on, dazzled, enchanted, bewildered, yet com- 
menting without pause, till I was gazing, trans- 
fixed, on such a spectacle as would have lifted 
the apocalyptic John into the Seventh Heaven ! 

Then rose before me Jerusalem on its hill, 
the holy city of the Jews, with its sacred temple, 
the city of the Crusades, the city of pilgrimages, 
the city of the New Testament. And beyond 
and above it, the heavens were opened, and the 
New Jerusalem was revealed in all the glory 
of its prophecies, traditions and beliefs. The 
Promise and the Fulfillment I Awe-struck, al- 
most blinded, I was gazing from one to the 
other, saying to myself : ** How can I ever de- 
scribe what I have seen? How explain it? 
Where find words to express it? There is 
nothing, nothing, I can compare it to or with *^ — 

A repeated tapping at my door, which I 
heard but could make no response to. Then I 



326 BY-GONE TOURIST DAYS, 

knew the maid had gone away. Presently^ 
another rap; then the door unclosed and my 
name called; finally, a touch and gentle shaking 
roused me as if from a nightmare. It was half- 
past two. I had not lost consciousness for a 
moment, but I had not moved or spoken aloud. 
When I described the above to a learned friend, 
he said it was caused by the preceding extreme 
fatigue. I accepted the explanation. 




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